INTIMATE 
LLTTLR5 

FROM 

FRANCE, 


GIFT   OF 
Mrs.   Emersson 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

DURING  AMERICA'S  FIRST  YEAR  OF  WAR 


ELIZABETH  H.  ASHE 

< 

CHIEF  NURSE  OF  CHILDREN'S  BUREAU 

DEPARTMENT  OF  CIVIL  AFFAIRS 

AMERICAN  RED  CROSS 


PHILOPOLIS  PRESS 

SAN  FRANCISCO.  CALIFORNIA 
1918 


COPYRIGHT  1918 

BY 
PHILOPOLIS  PRESS 


INTRODUCTION 

These  letters,  written  without  thought  of  publication,  are 
now  printed  in  the  belief  that  the  reader  may  find  in  them  a 
source  of  inspiration  and  comfort. 

The  writer  has  served  for  years  in  ways  which  have  peculi- 
arly fitted  her  for  her  present  duties.  As  the  founder  of  the 
Telegraph  Hill  Neighborhood  Association  in  San  Francisco  and 
the  Bothin  Convalescent  Home  for  women  and  children  in 
Marin  County,  California,  she  has  successfully  met  many  of  the 
same  problems  of  organization  for  the  relief  of  suffering  which 
now  confront  the  Children's  Bureau  of  the  American  Red  Cross 
in  France.  Thus  from  her  knowledge  of  the  sick  and  neglected 
at  her  own  door  she  has  been  enabled  to  deal  wisely  and  gener- 
ously with  those  whom  she  now  serves. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  war  her  desire  for  active  service 
in  France  has  been  great,  and  as  early  as  October,  1914,  she 
offered  her  services  to  the  New  York  representatives  of  the 
American  Red  Cross  but  was  not  then  needed  for  overseas  duty. 

When  America  entered  the  war  she  again  volunteered  for 
active  service  with  the  National  Red  Cross  Nursing  Service,  but 
being  past  the  prescribed  age  limit  was  not  accepted.  Finally, 
however,  having  passed  all  tests,  she  signed  for  duty  with  Base 
Hospital  30  formed  at  the  University  of  California  Hospital, 
San  Francisco  and  was  awaiting  her  orders  in  June,  1917,  when 
Dr.  William  Palmer  Lucas  returned  from  Washington  where  he 
had  been  called  to  form  the  first  pediatric  unit  to  be  sent  to 
France.  The  great  need  of  the  work  is  described  in  the  extract 
from  the  American  Red  Cross  Bulletin  printed  on  the  following 
page. 

Dr.  Lucas  realized  the  vital  importance  of  the  nursing  ser- 
vice to  the  success  of  the  undertaking,  and  knowing  her  ability 
and  experience,  urged  upon  Miss  Ashe  her  acceptance  of  the 
task  of  organization.  Her  prompt  response  to  his  demand  and 


$£4453 


4  INTRODUCTION 

their  combined  efforts,  made  possible  her  necessary  transfer 
from  the  Base  Hospital  Service. 

The  terse,  vivid  sentences  of  the  letters  picture  as  more 
studied  phrases  might  fail  to  do,  the  scenes  of  suffering  and  the 
opportunities  for  service  as  they  present  themselves  to  the 
writer.  Written  under  the  stress  of  work  and  to  those  closest 
in  her  confidence,  they  bear  the  imprint  of  her  character. 

No  editing  of  the  extracts  has  been  possible.  To  have  at- 
tempted this  would  have  been  to  mar  the  essence  of  their 
strength;  that  strength  which  comes  from  the  simplicity  of  a 
great  purpose  deepened  and  ennobled  by  the  vision  of  the  un- 
conquerable soul  of  France. 

A.  G. 


EXTRACT  FROM  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS 
BULLETIN 

A  group  of  specialists  in  infant  welfare  has  been  sent  to 
France  by  the  American  Red  Cross.  At  its  head  is  Dr.  William 
P.  Lucas,  professor  of  pediatrics  in  the  University  of  California, 
and  the  originator  of  the  "Save  a  Belgian  Baby"  movement. 

Before  the  war  the  birth  rate  and  death  rate  in  France  were 
so  nearly  equal  that  publicists  voiced  their  concern  over  the 
future  of  the  national  life.  Last  year,  however,  with  the  death 
rate  probably  over  20  per  1,000,  not  counting  deaths  of  men  in 
military  service,  the  birth  rate  was  officially  estimated  at  only 
8  per  1,000.  In  New  York  State  the  birth  rate  is  23  or  24  per 
1,000,  the  death  rate  about  14  per  1,000. 

The  total  deaths  in  France  in  1916  were  about  1,100,000. 
Births  numbered  only  312,000.  The  net  loss  in  population  was 
788,000,  or  nearly  2%  of  the  whole.  In  Paris,  where  48,917 
babies  were  born  in  the  year  ending  August  1,  1914,  only  26,179 
were  born  in  the  second  year  of  the  war,  ending  August  1,  1916. 

"There  is  a  crying  need  for  effective  work  among  children," 
cables  Major  Gray  son  M.  P.  Murphy,  head  of  the  American  Red 
Cross  Commission  now  in  France.  He  reports  that  there  is  a 
great  need  for  doctors  and  nurses  for  work  with  mothers  and 
children,  and  the  Infant  Welfare  Unit  will  be  prepared  to  give 
such  immediate  relief  as  it  can. 

With  Dr.  Lucas  in  the  Unit,  which  was  financed  by  Mrs. 
William  Lowell  Putnam  of  Boston,  are  Dr.  J.  Morris  Slemons, 
of  the  Yale  Medical  School,  one  of  the  best  known  of  obstetri- 
cians; Dr.  Julius  Parker  Sedgwick,  physiological  chemist,  pro- 
fessor at  the  University  of  Minnesota;  Dr.  John  C.  Baldwin, 
specialist  in  diseases  of  children;  Dr.  Clain  F.  Gelston,  Dr. 
Lucas's  assistant  at  the  University  of  California;  Dr.  N.  O. 
Pearce,  another  specialist,  and  the  following  experts  in  sociology 
and  child  welfare  work;  Mrs.  J.  Morris  Slemons,  Mrs.  William 


6  EXTRACT  FROM  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  BULLETIN 

P.  Lucas,  Miss  Elizabeth  Ashe,  and  Miss  Rosamund  Gilder, 
daughter  of  the  poet. 

These  specialists  will  survey  the  situation  and  study  the 
work  already  being  done  by  the  French,  and  will  practice  with- 
out receiving  compensation  from  patients.  The  task  before  the 
Red  Cross,  which  will  be  carried  out  by  this  and  succeeding 
units,  is  not  only  to  co-operate  with  French  specialists,  but 
also  to  carry  on  a  general  educational  campaign  among  French 
mothers  in  the  interest  of  better  prenatal  hygiene  and  scientific 
feeding  and  care  of  the  babies.  Special  efforts  will  be  made  to 
protect  children  from  tubercular  infection  which  is  particularly 
threatening  France  today  as  a  result  of  trench  warfare. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Washington,  July  12,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

I  have  had  such  an  exciting  day.  As  I  entered  the  hotel  this 
morning,  Dr.  Lucas  was  at  the  telephone  asking  for  me.  The 
telegram  I  sent  him  en  route  settled  everything.  He  took  it  to 
the  Red  Cross  headquarters  and  Miss  Delano  immediately 
agreed  to  let  him  send  for  me.  The  "Commission,"  as  it  is 
called,  consists  of  twelve  doctors  with  big  reputations,  Mrs. 
Lucas,  Mrs.  Slemons  (one  of  the  doctor's  wives),  and  myself 
I  am  to  organize  the  nursing  end  of  it.  I  went  at  once 
to  the  Red  Cross  building  and  had  long  conferences  with 
the  heads — Miss  Delano  soon  got  an  idea  that  I  knew  every  one 
on  earth,  because  our  talk  was  first  interrupted  by  Miss  H. 
Draper,  an  old  friend  of  Cousin  LoyalTs  and  head  of  the  New 
York  Red  Cross,  and  about  ten  minutes  later  by  Sadie  Murray 
who,  of  course,  fell  into  my  arms,  then  a  note  was  brought  in 
from  Mrs.  Newlands  asking  me  to  dinner,  where  I  am  going  in 
about  ten  minutes.  I  did  not  go  to  the  Grafton  but  am  at  a 
little  place  near  by  where  the  Lucases  are,  just  like  the  Haven  t 
We  are  beautifully  taken  care  of  by  a  negro  couple — breakfast 
in  our  rooms! 

It  is  lovely  here  now.  I  have  never  seen  Washington  in  her 
summer  clothes  before,  but  it  is  very  hot.  I  am  so  disgusted 
that  I  had  all  those  white  dresses  made.  The  Red  Cross  has 
supplied  me  with  a  whole  outfit,  dresses,  aprons,  coat,  cape  and 
caps. 

I  think  we  will  have  a  very  interesting  time  making  the  sur- 
vey for  about  two  months  before  the  real  work  begins.  Mrs. 
Lucas  is  to  have  moving  pictures  of  it  all  for  publicity.  I  have 
had  very  little  conversation  with  Dr.  Lucas  so  far.  I  have 
found  out  that  there  is  little  chance  of  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia Base  Hospital  Unit  going  to  France,  so  I  am  glad  I  am 
out  of  it, 


8  '    INTIMATlf:  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

bit  course  much"  cf  my'  time  has  been  spent  at  the  Red  Cross 
building  with  Miss  Delano  and  Miss  Noyes — the  former  is  fine 
— 72  years  old  but  very  well  preserved.  Miss  Noyes  is  my  real 
chief.  However,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  they  frankly  say 
our  mission  is  a  new  one  to  them  all;  they  have  no  instructions 
to  give  me — we  have  to  work  it  all  out. 

After  lunch  yesterday  I  went  to  the  House  and  heard  an 
interesting  speech  on  Aviation  and  then  called  on  Jeanette  Ran- 
kin  who  greeted  me  with  open  arms  and  asked  almost  immedi- 
ately for  Peter  who  was  a  great  friend  of  hers.  She  is  very 
disapproving  of  these  militant  suffragettes,  thinks  it  is  harming 
the  cause  and  says  Mrs.  Park  thinks  likewise. 

I  called  on  Cousin  Sam — he  is  an  old  dear,  the  very  image  of 
our  old  portrait  of  Grandpa  Ashe.  I  picked  him  out  among  a 
crowd  of  men  from  the  likeness.  His  features  are  small.  He 
says  he  considers  the  President  a  great  man,  although  he  has 
not  always  approved  of  his  policies.  For  instance  he  said 
"When  the  Lusitania  went  down,  I  would  have  written  the 
Kaiser  and  said:  'Sir,  you  are  unfit  for  me  in  the  future  to  com- 
municate with/"  or  something  to  that  effect.  He  said  that 
greatness  consisted  in  having  the  vision  to  see  the  right  thing 
to  do,  although  it  might  appear  to  the  world  to  be  unwise  at  the 
time.  He  has  a  son  in  the  navy  who  is  now  on  one  of  our 
destroyers,  he  touches  on  the  coast  of  Ireland.  I  overstayed  my 
time  talking  to  the  dear  old  man  and  rushed  madly  to  lunch 
with  George  Scott,  who  is  perfectly  splendid.  He  is  in  the 
supply  department  of  the  Red  Cross  representing  Chicago.  He 
gave  us  two  beautiful  lunches  at  the  Shoreham  where  we  saw 
all  the  celebrities.  Yesterday  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cook,  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Erie  R.  R.,  lunched  with  us.  I  mention  this  just 
to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  men  who  are  giving  their  whole 
time  to  the  Government  now. 

Dr.  Lucas  is  working  hard  on  lists  and  I  am  helping  him — 
dispensary  outfits— he  may  even  organize  children's  hospitals. 
His  orders  are  very  general  at  present,  a  survey  must  be  made, 
but  as  nearly  as  he  knows  at  present  the  work  is  to  be  done 
in  the  large  centers,  Paris,  Bordeaux,  Lyons,  etc.,  not  in  the 
devasted  districts.  I  am  to  organize  the  nurses. 

We  expect  at  present  to  sail  on  the  St.  Louis  the  21st,  for 
Liverpool,  to  leave  there  just  as  soon  as  possible.  I  hope  to  get 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE       9 

off  to  New  York  this  evening  on  a  midnight  train,  spend  a  day 
there,  tomorrow  take  the  midnight  train  to  Bath,  have  one  day 
with  Millie  and  return  that  same  night  to  New  York. 


New  York,  July  19,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

I  moved  to  the  Presbyterian  Hospital  this  morning,  found  a 
lovely  greeting  from  Miss  Maxwell.  It  is  very  hot  in  New  York, 
much  more  lifeless  than  Washington.  It  will  be  good  to  get  to 
sea.  I  spent  this  entire  morning  getting  my  uniforms.  I  am 
taking  two  serge  suits,  as  most  of  my  work  will  be  out  of  doors. 
It  is  very  good  looking,  the  hat  becoming,  dark  blue  velour; 
the  bright  red  brassards  on  the  sleeves  of  the  coat  and  suit  give 
it  a  very  gay  appearance.  Miss  Maxwell  will  be  a  great  help 
to  me,  she  is  so  full  of  enthusiasm  and  interest  in  the  work. 
Two  of  our  finest  women  in  the  nursing  profession  are  on  the 
National  Council  of  Defense  and  are  working  day  and  night  in 
Washington  over  it.  I  think  it  is  splendid — Miss  Beard  and 
Miss  Crandall — Alice  will  know  them. 

I  am  delighted  with  Rosamund  Gilder,  she  is  so  thoughtful, 
helpful  and  intelligent,  full  of  fun,  too.  She  is  about  twenty- 
five  years  old,  speaks  French  fluently,  is  to  be  Dr.  Lucas'  secre- 
tary. 


S.  S.  "St.  Louis,"  Sunday,  July  22,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

We  are  out  in  the  harbor  waiting  for  our  convoy.  It  was 
quite  thrilling  when  steam  was  actually  up  and  we  were  off.  I 
have  to  pinch  myself  to  know  it  is  really  I. 

I  must  tell  you  the  amusing  thing  that  happened  this  morn- 
ing. I  was  sitting  quietly  writing  in  a  corner  of  the  waiting 
room,  keeping  an  eye  on  the  desk  where  passengers  showed 
passports,  etc.  Suddenly  an  agitated  woman  appeared  urging 
for  admission  to  the  pier,  holding  in  her  hand  a  very  attractive 
package  which  she  was  trying  frantically  to  have  delivered  to 
a  passenger,  the  man  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it. 
Finally  as  she  turned  away  in  despair,  I  followed  her  and  said 


10      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

I  would  be  glad  to  deliver  it,  if  it  is  not  too  valuable.  She 
jumped  at  the  chance  and  I  found  it  marked  "Miss  Betty  Ashe 
from  Dorothy  Coffin,"  who  had  come  too  late  to  see  me.  Miss 
Maxwell  sent  a  probationer  flying  with  it,  who  turned  out  to  be 
a  friend  of  Mrs.  Casserly's,  it  pays  to  be  obliging. 

This  steamer  is  well  protected  with  guns;  the  men  are  now 
dragging  huge  shells  before  us  and  the  Red  Cross  has  provided 
us  with  wonderful  life  preservers. 

Did  I  tell  you  that  Miss  Maxwell,  in  introducing  me  to  a 
group  of  nurses,  told  them  that  I  had  humanized  her  training 
school,  had  showed  them  that  all  nurses  did  not  have  to  be 
made  after  the  same  pattern.  I  felt  that  I  had  not  lived  in  vain. 
I  asked  her  subsequently  what  she  thought  the  effect  had  been 
in  the  quality  of  the  nurses  turned  out.  Her  answer  was:  "May- 
be not  as  finished  nurses  but  women  better  able  to  fill  executive 
positions." 

Miss  Maxwell  has  given  me  splendid  letters — seems  to  know 
all  the  important  people  from  New  York  who  are  doing  work 
in  France.  I  wish  that  you  had  been  with  me  in  New  York,  it 
was  a  wonderful  sight,  especially  down  town.  Old  Trinity  is 
draped  with  flags  and  looking  from  there  down  Wall  Street  is  a 
thrilling  sight  to  my  mind.  Dorothy  Coffin  and  I  visited  the 
Nurses'  Club,  built  for  them  by  the  Y.  W.  C.  A.,  it  is  a  twelve- 
story  building  wonderfully  arranged  with  single  rooms,  beauti- 
ful library,  reception  rooms,  restaurant,  etc.,  roof  garden  and 
out  of  doors  dining  room.  They  certainly  do  things  on  a  big 
scale  in  New  York.  Mr.  Smith  had  a  check  for  $200,000  drop 
into  his  lap  for  a  school  in  which  he  is  interested,  and  he  didn't 
think  much  of  it. 

It  was  not  possible  for  me  to  send  the  first  part  of  my  letter 
back  and  now  we  are  in  the  middle  of  the  4th  day  of  our 
journey.  So  far  the  sea  has  been  like  a  lake,  no  one  ill  and  all 
glad  to  relax  after  the  past  strenuous  weeks.  We  are  all  full 
of  para  typhoid  germs,  which  make  one  feel  inactive.  It  is 
rumored  that  we  are  to  go  directly  to  France,  which  would  be 
a  disappointment  as  we  would  all  like  a  few  days  in  London. 
The  only  excitements  we  have  had  are  gun  practices  which 
make  such  terrific  noise  and  brings  realization  of  the  state  of 
war,  and  walking  the  decks  at  night  in  the  pitch  blackness,  not 
a  light  showing,  it  is  really  very  spooky. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  11 


Monday. 

Just  how  much  I  can  tell  you  of  yesterday's  attack  I  don't 
know,  but  we  tumbled  out  at  7  a.  m.,  clad  hastily — my  carefully 
thought  out  costume  being  the  green  sweater,  black  knickers 
covered  by  a  skirt  fastened  by  one  hook  which  I  intended  to 
drop  if  we  took  to  life  boats.  This  was  all  surmounted  by  Miss 
Glider's  tarn  o'shanter.  It  seemed  so  strange  to  be  discussing 
clothes  at  the  most  exciting  crisis  of  one's  life.  All  of  this  was 
surrounded  by  a  life  preserver.  The  firing  lasted  about  thirty 
minutes. 

The  shots  went  all  over  and  around  us,  but  except  for  a  few 
broken  windows,  no  damage  was  done — and  we  met  a  White 
Star  liner  making  straight  for  the  U  boat;  much  signalling  was 

done  from  our  boat.  We  certainly  are  living  in .  Have  seen 

any  number  of  mine  sweepers. 

The  coast  is  very  lovely.  With  glasses  we  can  see  quaint 
houses  and  we  smell  the  new  mown  hay.  We  will  all  be  glad 
to  be  on  terra  firma  again,  although  I  wouldn't  have  missed  the 
experience  for  anything. 

We  are  making  fast  for  Liverpool  after  a  delay  of  more 
than  twenty-four  hours.  Two  convoys  are  still  with  us. 


London,  August  2,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

It  is  certainly  very  difficult  to  write  in  the  midst  of  many 
distracting  things,  at  the  same  time  I  am  eager  to  do  so,  as  I 
know  that  everything  I  see  and  hear  would  be  of  great  interest 
to  you,  as  they  are  to  me. 

We  visited  yesterday  a  most  interesting  woman,  who  is  the 
General  Secretary  of  Infant  Welfare  Work.  This  work  has  in- 
creased enormously  during  the  war.  The  interesting  part  of  it 
is  that  these  classes  are  only  held  for  well  mothers  and  babies, 
no  sick  ones  admited,  they  are  referred  to  the  dispensaries. 
They  say  that  the  combination  never  works  even  in  the  same 
building,  with  classes  held  at  different  times.  I  am  enclosing 
the  card  used  which  I  think  would  be  economical  for  us  instead 
of  books,  where  it  is  a  feeding  case. 


12      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Although  many  places  are  closed  here  there  is  more  to  be 
seen  than  we  can  possibly  arrange  for  in  our  short  stay,  as  we 
are  investigating  all  the  welfare  work  possible.  We  really 
have  not  made  a  beginning  educationally  speaking.  Every 
birth  is  reported  to  the  center,  a  nurse  immediately  visits  and 
tries  to  interest  the  mothers,  etc.  The  doctors  are  paid  for 
their  services;  this  is  also  the  case  in  Baltimore  where  this 
same  work  is  done,  even  more  extensively  than  here.  Of 
course  in  both  places  they  are  not  dealing  with  a  strictly 
foreign  population,  as  we  are. 

I  spent  the  morning  at  the  Royal  Academy,  the  only  public 
place  open.  Between  the  suffragettes  and  the  war,  all  the  art 
treasures  have  been  concealed;  has  the  world  gone  mad?  The 
Turners  are  still  exhibited  so  I  spent  a  delightful  morning  with 
them. 

We  have  just  come  from  the  Abbey  where  we  attended  a 
wonderful  service  commemorating  the  entry  of  England  into 
the  war.  The  King  and  Queen  and  little  Prince  George  were 
present,  which,  of  course,  drew  a  big  crowd.  The  old  verger 
gave  me  a  tip  several  days  ago  as  to  which  door  to  go  in  at, 
in  order  not  to  have  to  wait  too  long.  The  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  preached  an  excellent  sermon  in  which  he  spoke 
most  feelingly  of  America  going  in.  When  we  first  went  into 
the  Abbey,  the  sight  of  files  of  maimed  and  lame  men  coming 
in  overcame  me  so  I  thought  I  should  have  to  leave,  but  they 
finally  were  seated,  and  were  forgotten  in  the  beauty  of  the 
service.  One  poor  fellow  who  iwas  legless,  was  brought  in  on 
the  back  of  a  man — it  is  all  too  dreadful.  These  British  soldiers 
are  a  magnificent  set  of  men.  I  can  not  always  distin- 
guish between  the  English  and  Colonials,  but  they  all  look 
fine,  even  when  disabled,  and  so  bright  and  courageous,  it 
thrills  one. 

The  Canon  read  most  beautifully  and  impressively  the  35th 
chapter  of  Isaiah.  I  was  very  much  impressed  by  the  beauty 
of  the  place,  the  simplicity  of  the  service  and  the  lovely  music 
— the  boys'  voices  were  like  an  angel  choir. 

Last  night  we  went  to  Hyde  Park  and  listened  to  the  band. 
It  was  fun  watching  the  people.  Nearly  every  man  is  in  uni- 
form and  they  all  differ  a  little,  enough  to  make  an  effect  of 
color.  Saturday  night  we  went  to  the  Haymarket  Theatre  to 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      13 

see  "General  Post,"  an  excellent  war  comedy  showing  the  effect 
of  the  war  on  snobbery. 

From  all  I  hear  I  fear  we  are  up  against  a  very  hard  proposi- 
tion. Unless  we  receive  much  co-operation  from  the  French 
Government,  we  can't  do  much,  but  Dr.  Lucas  thinks  that  has 
already  been  arranged.  Everyone  thinks  the  need  is  very  great. 

From  what  I  hear  it  is  thought  that  the  end  of  the  war  is 
far  off,  all  kinds  of  preparations  are  being  made  by  Americans 
for  the  care  of  their  wounded  and  nurses.  A  beautiful  big  club- 
house is  ready  for  nurses  returning  from  the  front  to  rest — 
they  can  live  there.  Mrs.  Reid  is  foremost  in  its  management, 
she  is  working  very  hard. 

I  am  very  much  impressed  by  the  fine  big  men  one  sees  in 
uniform,  splendid  looking  fellows,  not  all  English,  many  terri- 
torials, as  they  call  them,  and  all  looking  so  happy  and  bright 
although  few  walk  without  either  crutches  or  a  limp. 

London  is  certainly  a  fascinating  place  and  I  hope  some  day 
I  can  be  here  when  war  is  a  far  distant  memory,  but  it  will  not 
be  in  my  life  time  that  these  terrible  scars  can  be  effaced.  It  is 
truly  heart  breaking. 

It  is  already  four  days  since  I  began  my  letter,  and  it  has 
been  quite  impossible  for  me  to  go  on  with  it  before  now, 
between  sight  seeing  and  investigating  the  welfare  work,  I  have 
been  kept  on  the  go,  and  am  too  tired  to  write  at  night.  I  shall 
try  to  confine  my  letters  to  you  to  the  welfare  end  of  it,  and  tell 
Linie  of  the  sight  seeing,  she  will  be  sure  to  pass  on  the  letters 
to  you.  Dr.  Lucas  finds  out  everything,  so  we  will  have  good 
opportunities  to  see  things.  On  the  whole  the  hospital  and 
nursing  is  not  done  as  well  as  ours,  but  it  is  quite  amazing  how 
well  they  have  adapted  these  old  houses  to  their  new  needs,  and 
it  is  all  so  attractively  done.  For  instance,  in  a  nursery  I  was 
in,  one  room  was  done  in  French  blue  and  white,  curtains, 
covers,  and  babies,  and  in  another  all  pink,  curtains,  babies,  etc., 
the  effect  was  really  charming.  The  mothers  work  in  munitions, 
in  fact  so  many  women  seem  to  work  in  munitions  that  I  think 
they  must  be  manufacturing  enough  combustibles  to  blow  up 
the  world.  The  place  that  interested  me  the  most  was  a  tiny 
babies'  hospital  in  a  poor  neighborhood,  to  save  the  babies 
whose  mothers  would  not  send  them  to  big  hospitals,  it  is  some- 
thing that  I  have  always  longed  for. 


14      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

When  I  see  what  is  being  done  here  for  the  people  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  calls  made  on  everyone  for  war  relief,  it  makes 
me  feel  so  discouraged  about  the  poverty  stricken  condition  of 
our  home  charities,  not  one  decently  supported.  It  is  really 
inexcusable.  We  have  three  district  nurses  to  the  entire  city, 
and  I  am  wondering  who  is  helping  Miss  Johnson. 

There  has  been  endless  fuss  about  our  passports.  Mine  is 
in  order  as  a  Red  Cross  nurse,  but  Mrs.  Lucas  and  Miss  Gilder 
have  a  doubtful  position,  and  are  rather  suspicious  characters 
from  the  French  point  of  view.  I  do  hope  we  will  get  off  by 
Sunday,  as  I  feel  we  are  wasting  time  and  money  as  our  party 
of  twelve  are  here  at  the  Red  Cross  expense.  This  morning  I 
made  a  round  with  the  District  Nurse;  what  would  please  you 
would  be  to  see  the  poorest  children  looking  so  well  nourished. 
Everyone  says  this  is  the  result  of  better  wages.  I  hear  that 
there  is  more  drinking  among  the  women,  who  fill  the  public 
houses.  The  District  Nurse's  hours  are  from  10  a.  m.  to  10  p.  m., 
with  about  two  hours  off  for  meals.  No  time  off  during  the 
week,  not  even  Sundays,  I  do  not  see  how  they  stand  it. 

Lady  Ward  (Jean  Reid)  has  built  a  splendid  place  for  Ameri- 
can soldiers,  it  is  under  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  It  is  a  sort  of  portable 
house  or  cluster  of  houses  or  huts.  This  American  house  or 
group  has  sleeping  and  eating  capacity  for  800  men.  It  is  very 
simple  but  beautifully  done,  such  pretty  curtains,  furniture 
coverings,  etc.  I  was  especially  taken  with  the  tables  which  I 
would  like  to  imitate  for  the  Farm.  The  tops  are  tiled,  so  much 
prettier  than  oil  cloth.  I  do  not  know  how  they  will  look  after 
hard  use,  but  it  would  be  pretty  to  have  a  green  table  under 
the  trees. 

This  afternoon  I  visited  Peter  Pan  in  Kensington  Gardens. 
It  is  perfectly  dear  and  the  children  flock  about  him.  It  did  my 
heart  good  to  see  all  these  poor  children  in  these  beautiful 
gardens,  and  so  accessible  to  them.  These  London  parks  in 
the  midst  of  this  crowded  city  are  truly  wonderful,  and  we  can 
not  afford  it  in  San  Francisco.  What  a  lost  opportunity! 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      15 


London,  August  9,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

This  idea  that  60  per  cent  of  the  letters  are  lost  is  very  dis- 
couraging to  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.  You  told  me  that  in 
order  to  impress  on  me  the  importance  of  writing  often. 

I  have  had  a  most  interesting  week,  we  struck  the  first  bank 
holiday  which  has  been  given  since  the  war  began,  but  London 
instead  of  leaving  town  in  hordes  stayed  at  home,  as  the  train 
service  is  so  poor  at  present  that  traveling  is  no  pleasure.  Well, 
in  the  early  morning  I  sneaked  off  from  the  crowd.  I  took 
my  guide  book  and  sallied  forth  to  see  the  town.  It  was  most 
interesting  to  see  London  in  holiday  attire,  literally  turned  out 
into  the  streets — 5,000,000  people  wandering  about.  The  first 
thing  I  struck  was  the  change  of  guard  at  Buckingham  Palace. 
I  made  friends  there  with  an  old  soldier  pensioner  from  the 
Chelsea  Soldiers'  Home.  He  was  dressed  in  a  bright  red  cloth 
coat  and  covered  with  medals.  He  attached  himself  to  me  and 
acted  as  my  guide,  between  us  we  attracted  much  attention,  as 
our  R.  C.  uniforms  always  do  anyway.  They  are  an  open 
sesame  to  everything,  no  fees  at  the  public  amusements,  army 
and  navy  stores  open  to  us,  etc.,  and  the  police  are  endless  in 
their  patience  in  answering  questions.  After  seeing  the  Horse 
Guards  prance  and  listening  to  the  band  play,  I  made  my  way 
to  London  Bridge  guided  by  the  old  man.  I  wandered  about 
in  a  poor  district  there,  talked  to  the  people  and  had  a  most 
interesting  morning.  It  is  very  touching  the  way  people  come 
up  to  me  and  say,  "God  bless  the  Americans  for  coming  to  our 
help."  The  mass  of  people  here  certainly  do  appreciate  what 
we  are  doing.  Sometimes  they  say,  "Write  to  the  people  at 
home  and  thank  them  for  us." 

Food  is  not  any  higher  here  than  at  home,  except  sugar, 
which  is  more  difficult  to  get.  Prices  in  the  restaurants  are  not 
as  high  as  ours,  for  instance,  I  had  a  golden  buck,  cup  of  coffee 
with  milk,  oat-cake,  very  large,  and  apple  tart  for  lunch,  cost 
30  cents.  Except  in  the  really  swell  places  things  are  not  nearly 
so  well  served  or  so  clean,  the  mussiest  looking  girls  wait, 
never  clean,  in  fact  we  find  the  standard  of  cleanliness  nowhere 
up  to  ours — hospitals  or  anywhere — no  evidence  of  the  vacuum 
cleaner. 


16      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

I  have  the  greatest  admiration  for  the  Englishwoman  in 
this  war  work.  We  visited  a  Tommies'  Club  at  midnight  after 
the  theatre,  and  there  we  found  a  shift,  women  volunteers  who 
had  just  come  on,  their  hours  were  11  p.  m.  till  6  a.  m. — serving 
food  all  night  long.  The  troop  trains  arrive  at  all  hours  of  the 
night.  Alice  would  love  the  boy  scouts,  who  are  very  much  in 
evidence,  so  much  more  attractively  dressed  than  ours.  They 
wear  different  colored  sweaters  of  the  home-spun  type,  short 
stockings  to  match  and  trousers  of  the  same  color  in  serge; 
each  troop  has  its  own  color,  a  big  colored  handkerchief  is 
knotted  around  the  neck  and  they  are  covered  with  insignit; 
what  is  more,  one  rarely  sees  a  boy  under  14  with  a  hat  on,  and 
then  only  a  school  cap.  I  have  written  these  details  for  Alice's 
benefit.  One  sees  women  frequently  running  elevators  in  cos- 
tumes just  like  Bobby's  riding  breeches  and  coat. 

(On  back  page:) 

I  overlooked  this  page — will  write  on  it  an  ad. 
"10,000  women  wanted  for  farm  work.    Free 
outfit — high    boots,    overall    breeches    and 
hat.    18  shillings  a  week  and  maintenance." 


Paris,  August  12,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

Here  we  are  at  last,  just  three  weeks  from  the  day  we 
sailed.  We  had  quite  a  comfortable  trip  from  London  by  way 
of  Southampton  and  Havre.  We  were  fortunate  enough  to  get 
through  the  Custom  House  very  rapidly,  so  were  able  to  catch 
an  early  train  from  Havre  reaching  Paris  at  12  mid-day  instead 
of  10  p.  m.  which  we  feared. 


August  14 

Still  no  letters  from  home,  although  I  have  received  some 
from  Bath  and  New  York.  I  have  had  two  most  interesting 
days.  We  spent  the  afternoon  with  Mrs.  Bliss,  such  an  inter- 
esting woman  who  seems  to  thoroughly  understand  the  people- 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      17 

She  is  most  enthusiastic  over  the  French.  They  say  Paris  is 
filled  with  people  eager  to  work  with  nothing  to  do,  very  much 
as  it  is  with  us.  We  will  probably  go  to  the  front  on  Thursday, 
and  then  I  believe  it  will  be  very  difficult  to  get  letters  through. 
My  French  is  going  pretty  well,  I  seem  to  have  a  perfectly 
good  working  knowledge  of  it.  I  can  see  much  to  be  done  for 
children  here;  two  of  our  staff  will  go  to  work  immediately  in 
Paris  working  with  the  Rockefeller  people  who  are  going  to 
establish  tubercular  dispensaries  wherever  possible. 

While  we  are  waiting  for  the  police  to  put  us  through  the 
third  degree  in  questions  before  going  to  the  front,  I  will  try 
to  get  oft  this  letter  as  I  do  not  know  when  you  will  receive 
another,  when  once  we  get  into  the  fighting  district.  This 
place  we  are  going  to  is  about  10  miles  from  the  firing  line. 
Most  fortunately  Miss  Schofield  and  Miss  Fell  returned  last 
night.  Miss  Schofield  knew  the  one  woman  who  understands 
social  service  work.  She  is  eager  for  Dr.  Lucas  to  establish 
a  training  school  for  district  nurses  in  Paris  with  a  hospital 
attached.  She  already  has  two  hundred  trained  nurses  in  the 
field  scattered  over  France,  the  wives  of  officers  and  people  of 
intelligence.  All  these  people  think  we  can  thus  fill  the  biggest 
need  here  at  present  and  it  would  be  constructive  work.  It 
distresses  me  that  Dr.  Lucas  is  to  be  with  us  such  a  short  time. 

To  answer  one  of  your  questions,  Dr.  Lucas  has  complete 
charge  of  the  medical  end  of  the  civilian  work.  Dr.  Miller  from 
New  York,  who  was  in  the  Presbyterian  Hospital  when  I  was 
there,  is  doing  tubercular  work  for  the  Rockefeller  Institute 
and  we  hope  to  work  together.  They  are  the  only  men  over 
here  doing  any  civilian  work. 

I  attended  a  wonderful  High  Mass  at  Norte  Dame  for  the 
Feast  of  the  Assumption,  heavenly  music.  But  Paris  has  not 
the  same  fascination  for  me  that  London  has.  It  seems  more 
like  a  big  exposition  rather  poorly  attended  at  present,  of  course 
this  is  a  four  days'  impression,  although  the  individual  things 
here  are  quite  beautiful.  I  know  this  is  heresy. 


18      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Paris,  Monday,  August  13,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

While  waiting  developments  at  the  American  Red  Cross 
I  think  I  can  get  off  a  letter.  The  difficulty  of  seeing  anyone 
here  reminds  me  of  the  relief  days  in  San  Francisco. 

We  arrived  in  Paris  yesterday  at  noon  after  an  uneventful 
trip  across  the  channel.  We  left  Southampton  at  9  p.  m.  and 
arrived  at  Havre  at  6  p.  m.  Travelling  is  full  of  interest  as 
everyone  is  on  some  special  work  with  a  uniform  to  indicate 
it.  We  hear  all  kinds  of  expressions.  My  letters  which  I 
hoped  to  find  at  the  Red  Cross  have  been  forwarded  to  the 
American  Post  Office  No.  10  rue  St.  Anne,  which  I  think  you 
had  better  use  in  the  future  as  it  is  more  sure.  Just  before 
leaving  London  I  was  lucky  enough  through  Mrs.  Reid  to  get 
a  ticket  for  the  House  of  Commons.  It  is  very  difficult  for 
women  to  get  in  since  the  suffrage  raids.  The  subject  of  debate 
was  compulsary  school  law  for  children  under  fourteen.  It  was 
quite  amusing  to  hear  all  the  old  arguments  against  it  rehashed 
as  if  it  was  all  original.  I  was  very  much  interested  to  see  the 
Speaker  of  the  House  sitting  on  a  raised  dais  in  a  long  white 
wig,  and  below  him  to  see  the  men  sitting  in  the  front  benches 
with  their  heels  higher  than  their  heads  on  the  center  table 
before  them.  I  thought  that  a  purely  American  custom.  Of 
course  I  have  not  been  here  long  enough  to  see  anything,  but 
we  walked  yesterday  up  the  Champs  Elysee  to  the  Arc  de 
Triomphe  and  found  it  almost  deserted.  Every  other  woman 
you  meet  is  in  deep  mourning,  veils,  etc.  In  London  very  few 
wear  mourning  and  then  the  simplest  black,  no  crepe  veils  seen, 
of  course  to  my  way  of  thinking  the  only  sensible  thing. 

Considering  the  agitation  at  home  we  have  been  particularly 
interested  in  the  food  question.  We  considered  it  very  extrava- 
gantly used  in  London,  and  see  no  scarcity  here.  Sugar  was 
difficult  to  get  in  England  and  bread  also,  but  even  in  the  poor 
sections  I  saw  push  carts  covered  with  meat,  fish  and  vege- 
tables at  moderate  prices,  not  screened  in  any  way  from  the 
dirt  of  the  street  and  flies.  The  poorest  London  children  look 
well  nourished,  in  fact  the  poor  there  have  never  been  so  well 
off  as  they  are  now.  Food  prices  have  gone  up  in  proportion 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      19 

to  the  wage  scale  which  is  very  high,  but  the  drinking  among 
the  women  has  greatly  increased. 

Later: — We  have  had  a  conference  with  the  Red  Cross  heads 
and  it  has  been  decided  that  our  party  divide  now,  some  to 
remain  in  Paris  and  others  to  go  to  the  front.  I  am  in  the 
latter  group.  We  are  to  go  into  the  same  district  that  Daisy 
Polk  is  working  in,  the  district  is  large  so  we  may  not  even 
touch  her  work,  but  it  will  give  you  an  idea  of  our  whereabouts 
I  don't  know  how  much  I  am  permitted  to  write  of  it  as  yet. 


Somewhere  in  France,  August  17,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

We  are  traveling  through  the  valley  of  the  Marne.  You 
can  not  conceive  of  anything  more  peaceful  and  beautiful,  in 
spite  of  the  occasional  encampment  we  see  and  the  guns  peep- 
ing from  every  bush.  The  fields  are  being  beautifully  cultivated, 
the  harvest  going  on  and  the  crops  look  good  to  me — it  only 
impresses  us  more  and  more  with  the  frightfulness  of  it  all. 
We  see  the  women  toiling  in  the  fields,  the  soldiers  washing 
their  clothes  at  the  river  bank  and  such  a  lovely  peaceful  river. 
We  hear  a  good  deal  of  our  troops.  Mr.  Miel  is  working 
with  our  army,  they  are  so  short  of  tobacco,  although  the 
New  York  Sun  has  raised  an  enormous  sum  to  supply  it — 
I  thing  $300,000— but  it  is  difficult  to  get  it  over.  When 
the  agent  arrives  he  is  mobbed.  He  gave  us  a  graphic 
account  of  his  arrival  in  one  camp  where  the  men  were  in 
swimming,  they  simply  mobbed  him  in  their  birthday  clothes. 
Of  course  he  wanted  a  movie  of  it,  but  was  interfered  with, 
can  you  imagine  the  scandal  of  that?  I  hate  to  write  to  you  in 
pencil  but  I  have  to  squeeze  in  letters. 

What  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  say  is  needed  more  than  anything  else 
with  our  boys  is  women's  good  influence,  carefully  selected, 
women  to  run  canteens  and  really  mother  them.  It  must  be 
done  and  soon  I  should  think.  We  delayed  half  a  day  in 
Paris  and  as  I  was  all  packed  and  ready  to  leave  I  took  the 
afternoon  off  and  went  to  Versailles.  It  was  one  of  those  per- 
fect evenings,  wonderful  cloud  effects.  We  dined  close  to  the 
lagoon  in  which  was  reflected  the  clouds  and  the  colors  of  the 


20      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

setting  sun.  The  only  evidence  of  war  there  was  the  gardens 
planted  with  beans — the  effect  was  very  good — more  pleasing 
to  my  eye  than  formal  flower  beds. 

We  are  traveling  very  comfortably  into  this  war  zone,  a 
carriage  to  ourselves  and  diner,  which  will  serve  us  a  lunch  at 
12:30. 

Please  forgive  me  if  I  am  terribly  disconnected,  but  I  jot 
down  little  things  as  they  occur  to  me.  You  must  realize  that 
we  are  in  uniform  all  the  time  which  paves  the  way  for  us,  it 
is  really  an  open  sesame.  Last  night  such  a  touching  incident 
occurred.  When  we  returned  from  Versailles  on  the  street  car 
we  found  that  it  only  went  to  the  fortifications.  It  was  pitch 
black  night,  9:30.  The  woman  conductor  assured  us  that  we 
could  go  the  rest  of  the  way  Metro.  When  we  descended  from 
the  car  into  pitchy  blackness  I  was  scared.  The  woman  real- 
ized our  uncertainty  and  sent  a  little  boy  to  show  the  way...  We 
walked  at  least  a  mile  through  narrow  black  streets.  I  con- 
versed with  the  little  boy,  aged  12,  who  told  me  that  he  worked 
12  hours  every  day  in  a  machine  shop.  Although  his  poor  little 
legs  must  have  been  awfully  tired,  when  I  offered  him  a  tip  he 
refused,  looking  at  my  Red  Cross,  and  said  "No,  Madame,  c'est 
pour  les  blesses." 

We  now  see  the  White  Road  to  Verdun.  It  all  seems  like 
a  dream  to  be  here  at  times,  am  I  dreaming  or  is  it  real? 

I  fear  I  won't  be  allowed  to  settle  in  one  place  and  work 
as  the  scheme  is  such  a  big  one  that  all  that  I  am  supposed  to 
do  is  to  get  different  groups  started.  It  will  be  a  very  difficult 
matter  as  we  may  meet  with  much  local  opposition  from  the 
village  doctor,  etc.,  but  our  field  of  operation  may  extend  from 
one  end  of  France  to  the  other.  I  have  a  passport  which  takes 
me  anywhere  in  the  war  zone.  Our  headquarters  will  be  in 
Paris  where  we  have  to  establish  a  school  of  district  nurses  in 
the  near  future  with  a  small  hospital  attached  for  demonstra- 
tion purposes.  I  didn't  see  Dick  in  Paris  or  hear  of  him. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      21 


Somewhere  in  France,  August  17,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

If  you  could  behold  us  now!  Mrs.  Lucas  and  I  are  in  the 
bar-room  of  the  hotel,  sitting  at  one  of  the  little  tables. 

We  can  not  tear  ourselves  away  from  the  exciting  events 
around  us.  Every  little  while  the  syrens  blow  which  means 
shells  are  flying  and  we  are  warned  to  get  under  cover;  when 
the  tocsin  sounds  to  seek  the  cellar.  The  hotel  woman  says  it 
is  very  inconvenient  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  We  rushed 
into  the  street  to  see  the  German  taubes  which  look  like  white 
puff  balls.  The  town  is  filled  with  men,  scarcely  a  woman  in 
sight.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  wall  and  moat,  one  can  not  pass 
in  or  out  without  a  military  passport. 

We  inspected  the  refuge  camp  today  which  contains  about 
three  hundred  children  aged  from  two  months  to  twelve  years, 
and  forty  women.  It  has  only  been  open  two  weeks  and  is 
really  a  herculean  task.  The  place  was  an  old  barracks  before 
and  thoroughly  infected,  just  as  the  old  farmhouse  was  at 
Bothin.  The  floors  deep  in  mud  and  dirt,  and  the  children 
covered  with  impetigo  and  pediculosis.  Several  of  the  children 
have  been  badly  wounded,  one  poor  little  chap  with  his  eye 
blown  out  and  his  face  badly  disfigured.  We  saw  a  woman  who 
was  here  for  a  few  days'  rest,  she  works  in  the  fields  at  night 
with  a  helmet  and  gas  mask,  because  the  shells  drop  on  her 
so  in  the  day  time  she  can  not  work.  She  has  a  baby  two 
months  old  whom  she  leaves  in  this  refuge.  One  of  the  women 
said  she  was  so  glad  her  boy  was  here  because  he  was  so 
naughty  he  would  not  wear  his  gas  mask.  I  am  dying  to  get 
into  the  place  and  help  clean  up.  They  are  badly  in  need  of  a 
nurse  there.  All  the  helpers  are  first  aiders,  who  are  doing 
wonderfully,  but  who  do  not  understand  impetigo,  feeding,  etc., 
you  know  well  what  I  mean.  Dr.  Lucas  really  needs  my  help 
too  much  to  leave  me  here,  but  I  think  someone  will  have  to  be 
sent  immediately.  The  expenses  of  the  place  are  met  by  the 
State,  but  of  course  they  can  not  supply  everything.  The  Red 
Cross  must  help  out.  We  have  not  met  the  wonderful  prefect 
yet,  his  name  is  Mirman.  His  work  is  described  in  Arthur 
Gleason's  book— "One  part  in  the  Great  War." 


22      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Somewhere  in  France,  August  19,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

After  writing  last  Thursday  the  Tocsin  sounded  and  the 
fearsome  took  to  the  cellar,  the  rest  of  the  town  turned  out  to 
see  the  show.  I  figured  it  is  as  dangerous  as  crossing  Market 
Street.  I  watched  the  clouds  of  white  smoke  from  the  Boche 
and  French  planes.  The  night  before  Dr.  Lucas  had  a  wonder- 
ful view  of  the  surrounding  country  lighted  by  huge  search 
lights,  some  from  the  Exposition.  All  kinds  of  colored  light 
signals  were  thrown.  We  are  close  here  to  Fort  St.  Michel  and 
hear  the  big  guns.  We  sit  in  front  of  the  hotel  and  watch  the 
endless  stream  of  interesting  passers-by,  troops  in  all  kinds  of 
uniforms  and  peasants  with  their  burdens.  I  am  personally 
awfully  discouraged  today. 

We  were  to  have  passes  to  go  to  Nancy  and  environs,  where 
the  wonderful  Mirman  lives,  and  through  the  district  where 
Daisy  Polk  works.  Of  course  we  were  delighted  and  went  off 
to  the  children's  refuge  to  dinner.  We  watched  from  the  hill 
there  a  most  wonderful  sun  set  followed  by  flashes  from  the  big 
guns  in  the  distance  at  St.  Michel,  Verdun — all  so  thrilling. 

After  sealing  my  letter  this  afternoon  I  found  we  were  going 
after  all.  Dr.  Lucas  decided  to  make  the  trip  which  is  most 
important  for  him,  as  we  visit  the  towns  where  the  children  are 
living  underground,  and  his  report  to  the  Red  Cross  will  be 
most  valuable.  There  is  a  noble  cathedral  here  and  we  are  five 
miles  from  Joan  of  Arc's  birth  place. 


Paris,  August  25,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

Through  some  mistake  in  my  passport  I  was  kept  in 
Toul  two  days.  This  has  delayed  my  work.  In  the  meantime 
I  have  got  a  very  good  picture  of  the  general  situation  and  if  I 
were  permitted  would  go  straight  ahead  with  rural  district 
work.  It  is  what  is  most  needed.  I  would  like  to  see  a  nurse 
settled  among  these  poor  people  just  as  Daisy  Polk  is,  she  is 
doing  real  social  work,  living  in  a  little  cabin  and  was  having 
a  party  for  some  of  the  older  girls  when  we  saw  her.  Dr. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      23 

Lucas  wants  me  to  carry  through  another  plan.  Mile. 
Montimort,  who  is  a  perfectly  charming  French  woman,  has 
started  a  sort  of  district  nurses'  school,  and  she  wants  us  to 
take  it  over  and  run  it  on  American  lines.  It  is  a  big  con- 
structive work,  but  I  do  not  think  it  could  be  done  by  me 
now.  First,  because  a  school  is  not  built  in  a  day,  it  must 
be  a  long,  slow  process,  on  good  secure  foundations,  unless 
I  had  at  least  five  free  years  ahead  of  me,  I  think  it  would 
be  useless;  secondly,  I  feel  too  old  to  launch  a  big  undertak- 
ing of  that  kind,  to  revolutionize  the  nursing  in  France; 
thirdly,  I  think  it  should  be  done  by  a  French  woman  trained 
in  America  for  the  purpose.  It  would  really  take  months  of 
study  to  organize  to  begin  and  in  the  meantime  the  children 
are  crying  for  help. 

To  give  you  some  idea  of  what  it  means  we  would  first  have 
to  organize  and  run  a  civil  hospital  of  at  least  150  beds  where 
the  nurses  could  be  taught,  and  in  order  to  do  this  all  kinds  of 
political  problems  must  be  met,  also  professional  jealousies, 
and  all  by  a  total  stranger.  Mile.  Montimort  is  the  only  per- 
son here,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  who  has  any  social  ideas,  in  Paris 
I  mean,  she  has  a  settlement  and  all  these  nurses  working  and 
is  really  a  wonder,  but  no  longer  young  either.  The  plan  is 
for  me  to  live  with  her  at  a  woman's  club  and  work  the  thing 
up.  I  am  to  begin  tomorrow  morning  by  making  a  survey  of 
four  districts  in  Paris  to  decide  where  we  had  best  work.  I 
am  glad  to  do  so,  as  I  think  one  must  understand  Paris  to 
understand  France.  To  sum  up  our  work  so  far  it  is  just  two 
weeks  today  since  we  arrived.  We  have  inspected  one  district 
and  left  three  men  to  work  there,  and  one  nurse — Mrs.  Slem- 
mons.  Dr.  Baldwin  has  visited  another,  bringing  back  a  cry  for 
immediate  relief.  Dr.  Gelston  and  Dr.  Slemmons  have  stayed 
in  Paris  and  found  out  some  important  things  for  us.  We  have 
made  many  valuable  connections. 

When  you  write  to  ask  me  to  tell  you  what  to  do  to  help 
I  do  not  know  what  to  say.  From  what  I  hear  there  seems  to 
be  plenty  of  undistributed  clothing  on  hand,  and  every  society 
at  home  clamoring  to  make  more.  Mile.  Montimort,  who  has 
a  big  grasp  of  things,  feels  that  the  work  of  the  "Fatherless 
Children"  is  wasted.  She  feels  that  adequate  help  should  be 
given  a  few  rather  than  so  many  poorly  helped.  She  sees  the 


24      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

problem  just  as  we  would  do  at  home.    The  minimum  for  each 
child  must  be  $10  per  month  at  the  present  prices. 

I  have  a  desk  in  the  Red  Cross  main  office  and  will  be  able 
to  size  up  the  situation  better  in  a  little  while. 


Paris,  September  1,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

This  is  a  queer  place  to  work  in,  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
transact  any  business  between  the  hours  of  12  and  2  p.  m.,  so 
unless  you  meet  people  and  talk  business  with  them  at  the  lunch 
hour,  you  simply  must  rest,  as  even  the  stenographers  are  off. 
I  have  one  of  the  latter  at  my  disposal  which  is  very  useful  to 
me  especially  for  spelling.  I  have  just  lunched  with  such  an 
interesting  woman,  a  Mrs.  Post,  I  have  a  feeling  I  should 
know  something  about  her.  She  has  developed  a  wonderful 
piece  of  work  in  France  for  tuberculosis,  has  district  nurses 
all  over  Brittany.  I  am  to  visit  her  in  order  to  study  her 
work. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Lucas  returned  last  night  from  Evian,  on  the 
border  of  Switzerland,  where  1,000  refugees  come  through  every 
day  from  Northern  France.  They  say  it  was  heart  breaking  to 
see  them  arrive,  many  tiny  children  coming,  too  young  to  tell 
their  names,  having  been  roughly  separated  from  their  parents. 
Long  lines  of  refugees  wait  for  every  train,  hoping  that  their 
loved  ones  will  arrive,  the  most  touching  reunions  take  place. 
Many  never  find  those  they  seek  as  the  able  bodied  women  are 
kept  and  the  young  children  sent  away,  isn't  it  too  horrible? 
The  brutality  of  the  German  was  again  impressed  on  them  by 
some  English  officers,  forty  of  them  who  were  passing  through 
Lyons  on  their  way  home,  exchanged  prisoners,  all  physical 
wrecks.  They  told  unbelievable  tales  of  their  treatment  the 
first  year.  They  would  stand  in  line  hours  for  food  and  just  as 
they  reached  out  a  hand  for  a  bowl  of  soup  a  German  would 
spit  into  it,  this  was  a  common  practice.  Two  of  the  men  who 
were  not  wounded  had  operations  in  the  muscles  of  their  legs 
so  that  they  would  be  stiff  for  all  time,  diabolical.  Some  of 
the  men  were  such  nervous  wrecks  from  brutal  treatment  that 
they  burst  into  tears  if  they  were  spoken  to  suddenly. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      25 


Paris,  September  3,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

I  am  just  adding  a  few  lines  in  pencil,  as  I  have  not  a  pen, 
to  tell  you  that  dear  old  Dick  appeared  on  the  scene  this  after- 
noon, to  rejoice  my  heart  with  his  happy  smile,  which  is  as 
cheerful  and  broad  as  ever.  I  have  never  seen  him  in  better 
form,  his  uniform  is  most  becoming  to  him.  If  he  has  to  wait 
for  several  weeks  before  he  is  assigned  to  a  regiment  to  get 
his  uniform,  etc.,  he  is  going  to  try  to  get  over  to  England;  it 
would  be  impossible  for  most  people,  but  Dick  seems  to  be  able 
to  put  this  through.  I  wish  that  you  could  hear  him  tell  his 
adventures.  We  dined  together  last  night,  of  course  he  is  eager 
for  home  news. 

There  are  800  American  boys  in  the  Camion  Service,  Dick 
says  many  of  them  are  going  in  for  aviation.  I  am  thankful  he 
is  too  heavy  for  it,  you  will  be  amazed  that  he  says  that  his 
former  vacation  adventures  did  more  to  get  him  his  commission 
than  anything  else.  He  was  minutely  questioned  as  to  his  past 
life,  and  the  officer  was  delighted  with  his  account  of  his  vaca- 
tions. Can  we  ever  tell  in  this  life  what  counts? 


Somewhere  in  France,  August  21,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  am  going  to  write  what  I  can  of  the  wonderful  day  we 
had  yesterday,  not  knowing  what  will  go  through,  but  I  must 
try  it.  We  were  taken  to  the  second  line  of  defense,  just  think, 
only  five  miles  from  the  Boches,  by  the  way,  if  you  say  Alle- 
mand  here,  you  are  corrected.  No  other  women  have  ever 
been  so  near  the  lines,  even  Miss  Burke  did  not  get  beyond  the 
forts,  but  we  were  between  the  forts  and  the  Boche  trenches. 
We  visited  several  demolished  villages  en  route,  the  object  of 
our  visit  was  to  see  the  places  where  the  children  come  from, 
count  the  number  left  behind,  who  all  must  wear  gas  masks 
which  they  often  rebel  at  doing.  No  children  under  eight  are 
left  with  their  mothers,  who  work  in  the  fields,  sometimes  at 
night,  when  the  firing  is  too  severe.  The  serenity  and  cheerful- 
ness which  they  display  is  marvelous.  Their  ruined  homes  did 


26      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

not  make  the  dreadful  impression  on  me  I  anticipated,  it  is  not 
a  circumstance  to  our  fire.  Except  where  the  churches  are 
demolished,  a  social  service  worker  can  not  help  but  feel  that 
more  sanitary  buildings  might  be  an  improvement,  the  animals 
and  people  all  live  together.  As  far  as  food  and  clothes  are 
concerned,  they  look  well  fed  and  clothed,  but  the/  filth  is  in- 
herent, not  just  the  result  of  the  war.  But  can  you  imagine 
anything  more  dreadful  than  a  condition  in  the  supposedly 
Christian  world?  Christ  on  his  crucifix  in  many  villages  is  the 
only  thing  erect,  where  women  and  little  children  by  thousands 
must  work  in  the  fields  under  shell  fire  wearing  gas  masks  to 
protect  them  from  the  fiendish  brutality  of  their  fellow  men. 
The  Americans  are  said  to  be  responsible  for  the  invention  of 
submarines  and  areoplanes,  but  thank  God,  we  are  not  respon- 
sible for  the  gas  devil,  but  to  return  to  my  tale. 

On  Monday  morning  we  started  on  our  trip  in  two  cars  sent 
to  us  by  the  field  staff.  We  were  very  soon  on  the  "White 
Road  to  Verdun"  which  name  is  well  applied.  I  never  saw  a 
more  beautiful  boulevard  road,  and  winding  through  such  a 
lovely  country.  The  cars  simply  went  like  lightning.  I  have 
never  driven  so  fast,  our  first  stop  was  made  to  say  "How  do 
you  do"  at  stations  where  our  ambulance  boys  are  living  in 
what  I  call  a  mess.  Fourteen  of  them  were  off  duty  with  some 
skin  trouble,  probably  scabies.  Fortunately  the  work  was  light 
just  then.  We  soon  proceeded  to  the  demolished  villages  and 
met  the  various  mayors,  who  generally  met  us  pitchfork  in 
hand,  they  seem  to  elect  by  vote  the  most  decrepit  man 
in  the  village,  not  that  we  saw  any  others,  every  abled  bodied 
human  being  is  at  war,  one  never  sees  a  youth,  I  don't  know 
what  has  become  of  them  unless  they  are  all  dead.  The  men 
in  the  army  all  look  mature,  which  is  quite  different  from  the 
English.  In  London  I  saw  so  many  boys  in  uniform  who 
looked  barely  seventeen.  The  spirit  of  the  French  soldier 
seems  fine,  they  are  all  smiles,  even  those  we  saw  in  the 
trenches.  There  is  plenty  of  fight  left  in  them  yet.  It  seems  to 
me  as  if  they  were  all  settled  down  to  the  business  of  war  as 
if  it  were  a  regular  business,  and  have  no  idea  of  its  ever 
ceasing,  the  men  really  enjoy  it.  I  can  understand  it  a  little 
bit  because  when  we  were  in  our  battle  at  sea,  I  felt  quite 
thrilled  and  excited  at  all  the  noise  and  commotion,  but  I  fear 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      27 

there  is  something  inherent  in  human  nature  that  likes  a  fight. 
The  women  seemed  to  be  in  a  perfectly  normal  state  of  mind 
and  it  is  very  difficult  to  persuade  them  to  leave  for  places  of 
safety.  The  head  of  a  shell  factory  right  at  the  front  told  me 
that  the  first  day  400  of  the  cowards  left  and  that  since  that 
none  had  gone.  He  has  about  15,000  left  in  his  village.  His 
factory  is  shelled  every  night,  everyone  regularly  goes  to  sleep 
in  the  cellar  and  they  all  look  remarkably  well,  the  age  of 
maturity  here  seems  to  be  7.  All  children  under  8  are  sent 
away  to  those  huge  asylums,  but  I  will  describe  them  another 
time. 

Between  each  village  our  cars  went  like  mad,  as  the 
road  was  exposed  to  the  enemy  fire,  we  did  not  realize  till 
afterward  that  the  staff  cars  attracted  attention  to  us.  When 
we  finally,  after  a  mad  dash,  arrived  at  the  second  line,  great 
was  the  surprise  of  the  Colonel  and  the  men  who  had  never 
seen  a  woman  there  before.  We  were  shown  just  how  the 
wounded  were  given  the  first  aid  treatment.  First,  anti-tetanus 
toxin,  then  a  simple  dressing,  followed  by  a  dose  of  morhpine 
to  help  them  on  the  journey.  The  surgeon  was  very  grateful 
to  the  American  Fund  for  French  Wounded,  for  all  they 
had  done  for  them.  We  went  into  the  trenches  which 
are  filthy  holes  which  animals  would  refuse  to  live  in 
and  then  were  taken  up  a  side  hill  into  a  dug-out  where 
the  colonel  had  a  banquet  spread  for  us,  the  table  deco- 
rated with  flowers  and  an  orchestra  playing.  The  banquet 
consisted  of  Saratoga  potatoes,  bread  and  tea,  beer  and 
champagne.  Most  touching  compliments  were  paid  to  our 
country,  and  when  the  orchestra  played  "Home,  Sweet  Home" 
from  Martha,  not  knowing  its  meaning  to  us,  it  was  almost  too 
much.  A  man  with  a  beautiful  voice  who  sings  in  one  of  the 
Paris  churches  sang  pathetic  songs  of  his  beloved  country,  and 
altogether  it  was  an  occasion  I  shall  never  forget,  although  it 
was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear,  the  body  of  a  headless  man 
had  been  carried  into  their  little  morgue  a  few  minutes  before. 
All  the  time  the  frightful  guns  were  thundering  away  and  every 
time  I  jumped  the  men  all  laughed,  thought  it  was  a  big  joke. 
But  the  pleasure  those  lonely  men  got  out  of  our  visit  was  pa- 
thetic in  itself.  Soldiers  kept  arriving  with  huge  bunches  of 
golden-rod  in  honor  of  our  country.  The  French  certainly 


28      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

know  how  to  be  agreeable.  On  our  return  we  stopped  at  several 
hospitals  where  the  most  serious  cases  are  taken  care  of,  not  a 
woman  nurse  and  that  tells  the  tale,  flies  thick  everywhere,  but 
the  men  all  smiles.  I  bought  a  quantity  of  cigarettes  which 
they  eagerly  seized.  So  far  I  have  spent  all  my  money  for 
cigarettes  and  toys.  The  appeal  to  my  heart  has  come  from 
the  poor  uncomfortable,  badly  cared  for,  helpless  men  and  the 
hundreds  of  dull  eyed  listless  looking  children,  sitting  around 
in  these  huge  asylums  with  nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  play  with, 
they  really  don't  know  how  to  play.  I  have  bought  jumping 
ropes,  balls,  etc.,  all  things  which  demand  activity.  They  must 
learn  to  play  hard.  I  actually  taught  some  boys  to  play  leap 
frog,  which  they  had  never  heard  of.  Our  men  are  badly  in 
need  of  base-balls,  I  believe  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  have  taken  that  up. 

As  we  sped  home  later  that  evening  a  shell  just  missed  us 
on  the  road,  and  the  mayor  of  one  of  the  villeges  told  us  the 
next  day  that  four  had  fallen  in  the  square  just  left.  But  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  the  trip  for  anything  as  all  the  reading  w 
the  world  does  not  give  you  the  true  picture. 

I  am  sending  this  to  Bath  first  as  I  know  I  will  never  repeat 
all  this. 

P.  S.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  the  cure's  mother  in  one  vil- 
lege  was  astonished  to  find  we  were  not  black,  although  Ameri- 
cans. 


Paris,  Sept.  9,  1917 
To  A.  G. 

I  have  been  through  some  poor  districts  and  have  a  pretty 
fair  idea  of  the  Paris  situation.  I  saw  a  place  yesterday  where 
three  thousand  refugees  are  housed  in  model  tenements  built  by 
the  City  of  Paris  for  poor  people,  and  not  quite  completed  be- 
fore the  war.  They  were  finished  in  a  hurry  and  used  for 
refugees.  They  are  very  light  and  well  planned  in  a  way,  but 
no  running  water  except  kitchen  sink  and  toilet;  no  light 
at  night  and  no  way  to  wash  clothes  as  far  as  I  could  see.  Of 
course  these  refugees  are  terribly  crowded  in  them.  Paris  was 
in  the  act  of  building  a  number  of  these  when  the  war  broke 
out,  homes  for  one  couple  and  for  families  with  from  one  to 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      29 

four  children  only.  Two  big  tenements  are  for  tubercular 
families. 

There  is  no  doubt  of  the  need  of  the  work  here;  there  is  so 
much  to  be  done  that  it  is  bewildering. 

The  work  is  going  much  more  smoothly,  many  tangles  have 
been  straightened  out. 


Paris,  Sept.  12,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  received  your  letter  today  saying  you  were  sending  me 
some  money.  Of  course  it  is  for  me  to  spend  for  other  people, 
the  need  for  a  special  fund  is  so  great.  I  suppose  Red  Cross 
red  tape  cannot  be  avoided  when  things  come  up.  For  instance, 
I  gave  $30.00  the  other  day  to  a  Presbyterian  Hospital  nurse 
who  has  given  her  services  since  the  beginning  of  the  war  to 
a  place  for  children  at  Evian.  She  has  never  had  any  proper 
dispensary  equipment.  Dr.  Lucas  is  going  to  take  over  the 
place  but  it  may  take  two  months  to  get  it  through.  The  poor 
woman  seemed  so  tired  and  discouraged. 


Paris,  Sept.  16,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  was  glad  to  get  your  news  of  Miss  Johnson. 

In  all  my  travels  I  havn't  seen  a  place  which  compared  in 
charm  to  our  Neighborhood  House,  or  a  nurse  who  could  hold 
a  candle  to  Miss  Johnson.  But  tell  her  she  is  not  needed  over 
here,  she  might  be  dumped  in  one  little  corner  and  made  to 
kick  her  heels  for  months  or  she  might  be  overworked  doing 
things  other  people  could  do  better. 

I  doubt  if  much  fighting  will  take  place  between  now  and 
Spring,  when  our  men  are  expected  to  come  and  take  the  brunt 
of  it.  Do  refer  enough  to  my  letters  when  you  write  to  let  me 
know  that  you  receive  them,  it  is  discouraging  to  write  these 
long  letters  and  never  know  whether  they  arrive  or  not. 

Yes,  to  answer  one  of  your  questions,  that  account  in  The 
"Times"  was  of  our  adventure.  It  was  most  exciting,  in  fact, 
the  whole  voyage  was  really  thrilling.  After  the  first  two  days 


30      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

out  we  came  into  a  heavy  fog  and  I  can  assure  you  that  it  was 
not  comfortable  going  slowly  through  it  with  all  lights  out.  I 
felt  much  more  nervous  about  that  than  I  did  over  the  actual 
attack  of  the  submarine  which  took  place  when  we  were  seven 
days  out,  two  days  before  we  reached  Belfast.  We  were 
awakened  by  firing  at  7  a.  m.  I  jumped  up  and  began  to  put 
on  the  costume  which  I  had  decided  on,  black  tights  and  a 
sweater  with  my  skirt  just  hung  on  to  me  by  one  hook,  so  that 
I  could  drop  it  quickly.  It  was  a  bright,  beautiful  morning. 
The  noise  of  the  big  guns  which  we  were  carrying  was  terriffic. 
Well,  we  very  quickly  arrived  at  the  saloon  where  all  the  pas- 
sengers were  shut  up.  I  popped  little  Miss  Gilder  into  one  of 
those  awful  rubber  suits  and  locked  her  in,  they  have  huge 
metal  clasps;  then  I  put  on  one  of  the  ship's  preservers  which 
I  had  decided  to  take  my  chances  in,  having  been  told  that  the 
rubber  suits  took  up  the  place  of  three  people  in  a  boat.  I  have 
written  all  this  before  but  you  write  that  the  pages  were  torn 
out. 

The  exchange  of  shots  lasted  thirty  minutes.  We  fired  forty 
and  the  enemy  fifty-five,  many  of  which  broke  over  us  and  close 
beside.  We  literally  ran  away  and  when  we  were  out  of  gun 
shot,  went  down  and  ate  our  breakfast  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

I  was  really  more  nervous  in  the  Irish  Channel  when  we 
were  carefully  making  our  way  over  mines  with  possible  sub- 
marines at  any  minute,  but  this  seems  like  ancient  hisotry. 


Morlaix,  Sept.  19,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  wrote  you  such  a  blue,  discouraged  letter  Sunday  that  I 
am  quite  ashamed  of  myself  today  and  hope  that  both  letters 
reach  you  the  same  day.  I  have  been  here  with  Mrs.  Post  for 
four  days  and  feel  like  a  different  person.  She  has  organized 
a  wonderful  piece  of  work  here  in  Brittany  which  shows  that 
women  of  our  age  are  still  young  enough  to  be  of  some  use  in 
the  world.  I  won't  tell  you  about  her  work  because  I  will  write 
a  report  of  it  for  Dr.  Lucas  and  I  will  send  you  a  copy. 

You  have  been  in  my  thoughts  more  than  ever  if  possible 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      31 

since  I  have  been  here  because  I  know  that  you  love  Brittany. 
Through  the  district  nurses  I  have  gotten  into  the  heart  of  the 
country  in  the  short  time  I  have  been  here,  in  a  way  that  I 
might  not  have  done  for  months  as  a  tourist.  I  have  gone  right 
into  their  homes,  into  houses  built  in  the  14th  century,  too  in- 
teresting and  quaint  for  words,  and  filled  with  old  carved 
furniture  and  wonderful  clocks  and  china  even  in  the  homes 
of  the  poorest  peasants. 

We  have  found  them  squatting  on  the  ground  before  an 
open  fire,  the  whole  family  eating  from  a  big  iron  pot  in  the 
center.  The  nurses  have  taught  them  the  danger  of  the  in- 
fected ones  eating  from  the  same  bowl  and  actually  taught  them 
to  boil  their  own  bowls  and  spoons.  I  was  surprised  to  find 
how  successful  they  have  been  in  instructing.  Mrs.  Post  has 
seven  nurses  scattered  among  the  small  towns  near  here.  It 
has  been  very  encouraging  to  me  to  feel  that  my  coming  has 
been  a  real  help  to  Mrs.  Post,  who,  before  she  undertook  this 
work,  a  little  less  than  a  year  ago,  knew  absolutely  nothing 
about  district  nursing  and  was  not  even  interested  in  it.  She 
was  working  with  Dr.  Carrell,  she  had  brought  over  a  unit  of 
six  nurses  to  help  him.  Dr.  Carrell  became  interested  in  the 
tuberculosis  problem  of  France.  Eminent  French  doctors  met 
at  his  hospital  to  discuss  the  subject.  They  managed  to  get 
through  some  good  tuberculosis  laws  and  then  the  French  Com- 
missioners begged  Mrs.  Post  to  start  the  ball  rolling.  She  first 
positively  declined,  but  when  they  returned  several  months 
later  for  her  help  again,  she  very  reluctantly  consented  and 
came  here  because  it  was  the  most  infected  spot  in  France. 
Miss  Maxwell  provided  her  with  a  nurse  who  really  instructed 
her  in  the  a-b-c's  of  district  work.  The  nurse  was  obliged  to 
leave  her  about  six  months  ago  and  she  has  been  groping  ahead 
ever  since,  reading  books  and  getting  practical  experience.  You 
can  imagine  how  glad  she  is  to  have  such  a  sympathetic  visitor 
as  I  am. 

Coming  as  I  have  from  an  office  where  any  knowledge 
or  experience  I  hay  have  counts  for  nothing,  it  is  a  double 
pleasure  to  me  to  study  Mrs.  Post's  methods  which  are  admir- 
able, and  to  give  her  suggestions  which  are  helpful.  For  in- 
stance, she  is  converting  an  old  place  into  a  combination  day 
camp  for  150  people  and  hospital  for  research  work.  I  was  able 


32      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

to  plan  for  her  the  best  places  for  her  awnings,  etc.  Her  idea 
had  been  that  the  more  wind  they  were  exposed  to  the  better. 
She  was  just  about  to  build  a  pavilion,  just  a  roof  and  floor  for 
a  dining  room  in  a  most  exposed  place.  I  persuaded  her  not  to 
build  anything  at  present  but  arrange  for  the  patients  to  have 
their  meals  indoors  in  a  building  on  the  place  where  they  can 
be  warm  and  comfortable  while  eating.  Then  we  have  had  a 
great  time  in  talking  over  the  possibilities  of  her  farm,  25  acres, 
of  course  I  am  urging  Flemish  hares,  etc.  Mrs.  Post  is  very 
receptive  and  falls  upon  every  idea  with  avidity.  I  am  also 
urging  pottery  for  the  day  camp  people.  It  seems  that  the 
making  of  pottery  has  been  given  up  in  this  neighborhood 
although  the  clay  comes  from  here.  She  is  enthusiastic  at  the 
idea  of  reviving  the  art.  She  can  easily  get  a  good  potter  to 
run  it. 

I  have  seen  such  wonderful  sun  cures  that  I  want  to  take  off 
all  the  clothes  of  the  children  at  the  Farm  and  expose  them  to 
the  sun.  It  has  to  be  done  with  a  good  deal  of  care  at  first, 
gradually  increasing  the  length  of  exposure. 


Sunday,  Sept.  22 

I  couldn't  finish  my  letter  at  Morlaix,  and  here  I  am  on  the 
Paris  train  leaving  Quimpere  where  we  have  been  for  two  days. 
Mrs.  Post  returned  to  Morlaix  last  night.  She  has  really  done 
wonders  here  and  of  a  permanent  nature.  It  is  the  best  single 
piece  of  public  health  work  I  ever  seen  done.  I  am  charmed 
with  Brittany,  find  the  people  much  more  attractive  than  the 
other  French  peasants  I  have  seen,  much  cleaner,  and  of  course, 
their  costumes  are  fascinating.  Yesterday  was  market  day. 
I  couldn't  tear  myself  away  from  the  spot.  The  women  and 
little  girls  all  wear  black,  except  their  caps.  The  day  war  was 
declared  all  colors  were  put  away,  but  men  wore  bright  colored 
jackets  and  mixed  with  the  Zouaves  in  bright  red  and  the  sailors 
with  their  blue  collars  and  red  pompons,  the  market  place  was 
a  gay  sight. 

My  entire  trip  interested  me,  it  was  such  an  opportunity  to 
go  into  the  homes  of  the  peasants.  Millie  would  have  gone 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      33 

crazy  over  the  furniture,  and  as  for  Mrs.  Griffith  (Adelaide), 
she  would  have  forcibly  removed  much  of  it.  The  simplest 
peasants'  homes  filled  with  carved  furniture  trimmed  with  shin- 
ing brass,  wonderful  old  clocks  and  china,  or  rather  pottery, 
not  much  of  the  last. 

We  paid  nursing  visits  in  houses  dating  from  the  14th  cen- 
tury, all  spotlessly  clean.  The  people  speak  very  little  French, 
so  it  makes  the  work  more  difficult.  Mrs.  Post  has  several 
nurses  who  speak  Breton.  The  patients  really  follow  out  in- 
structions. They  have  420  cases  in  the  little  town  of  Morlaix. 
They  do  no  nursing  except  dressings;  the  idea  being  that 
they  had  to  choose  between  real  nursing  and  educational 
work — as  it  was  impossible  to  do  both.  They  teach  one  thing 
at  a  time,  don't  take  the  second  step  until  the  first  is  learned. 
For  instance  they  don't  at  one  and  the  same  visit  tell  patients 
to  guard  sputum,  open  the  windows,  not  drink  coffee,  to  sleep 
alone,  to  boil  their  dishes,  etc. 

We  motored  from  village  to  village  where  the  dispensaries 
are  established,  five  in  all,  each  village  quainter  than  the  last, 
all  the  surrounding  country  highly  cultivated  and  all  by  women 
who  work  so  hard  they  can  no  longer  nurse  the  babies,  and 
although  it  is  a  dairy  country,  such  poor  care  is  taken  of  the 
cows'  milk  that  no  one  thinks  of  using  milk  that  has  not  been 
boiled.  I  told  Mrs.  Post  that  until  they  tackled  the  milk  and 
water  question  I  thought  their  fight  against  tuberculosis  was  a 
hopeless  one.  There  is  more  tuberculosis  in  Brittany  than  in 
any  other  part  of  France. 

Another  fascinating  sight  was  a  pilgrimage  to  a  "Pardon," 
as  they  call  it.  The  mass  was  held  in  the  open  air,  the  altar 
being  over  a  spot  where  some  miracle  was  performed.  It  was 
touching  to  see  the  crowd  of  women  and  men  in  their  quaint 
costumes  kneeling  there  under  the  trees  praying  for  France, 
and  their  boys  at  the  front.  The  last  call  has  been  made  for 
boys  from  17  to  19. 

I  met  the  man  who  is  the  Grenfell  of  this  coast.  He  has 
established  hospitals,  reading  rooms,  etc.  I  am  returning  to 
Paris  renewed  for  the  fray. 


34      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Paris,  September  26,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

Since  my  return  to  Paris  things  have  been  very  quiet  as  Dr. 
Lucas  is  away — the  office  is  like  a  lull  after  a  storm — not  that 
he  is  at  all  stormy.  On  the  contrary  he  is  very  quiet,  but  it 
means  such  a  rush  of  business.  You  see  our  bureau  is  quite 
different  from  what  Dr.  Lucsa  or  any  one  expected.  All  the 
children's  work  in  France  has  been  thrust  upon  him,  sick  and 
well.  He  has  to  investigate  and  decide  on  all  the  aid  given  to 
already  organized  societies.  It  is  really  a  herculean  task.  While 
our  supplies,  nurses,  etc.,  are  en  route  I  am  helping  in  this.  I 
am  happier  now  having  something  definite  to  do. 

The  Finistere  report  will  give  you  an  idea  of  it.  Of  course 
it  is  not  constructive  work  but  I  am  glad  to  do  something  really 
useful. 

I  am  to  inspect  orphan  asylums  next  week.  I  spend  much 
time  interviewing  women.  I  think  every  misfit  in  France  is 
steered  to  me  and  there  are  many.  There  is  a  whole  group  of 
people  over  here  I  really  feel  sorry  for.,  they  came  a  year  or 
two  ago  as  volunteers  paying  all  their  own  expenses,  now 
money  has  given  out  and  they  are  stranded.  The  majority 
don't  know  enough  French  to  be  useful  in  our  work,  the  army 
doesn't  want  them,  the  canteen  people  won't  support  them,  as 
they  can  get  shoals  of  non-pay  people  and  here  they  are,  some 
very  clever,  capable  girls.  Just  at  present  France  is  over- 
stocked with  army  nurses.  There  has  been  so  little  fighting, 
some  are  being  released  to  us,  so  far  we  have  only  landed  one 
through  the  red  tape  but  hope  for  more. 


Paris,  October  9,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  am  going  to  send  you  at  least  a  short  letter  before  leaving 
for  Evian,  where  we  are  opening  a  big  "ceuvre,"  as  it  is  called 
here;  it  is  really  a  tremendous  undertaking  to  get  going  all  at 
once.  We  have  a  big  villa  there  with  smaller  houses  attached 
for  the  nurses  homes,  etc.  The  hospital  and  dispensary  are  to  be 
there,  the  dispensary  to  be  open  both  day  and  night,  as  one 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      35 

train  comes  in  at  night.  The  idea  is  that  we  are  to  examine 
the  children  physically  when  they  arrive;  poor  little  things, 
more  for  them  to  go  through  at  the  end  of  their  long,  tragic 
journey,  but  it  seems  necessary.  They  arrive  in  such  filthy 
condition  that  they  have  to  be  fumigated  before  they  can  be 
touched.  We  are  to  have  a  beautiful  convalescent  home  at 
Lyon,  a  gift  to  the  city  before  the  war,  but  which  has  never 
been  opened.  I  am  full  of  enthusiasm  because  I  see  hopes  of 
organizing  the  work.  If  there  are  any  available  French  nurses 
in  San  Francisco  who  speak  French,  do  make  them  telegraph 
to  Miss  Noyes.  I  would  prefer  the  French  than  all  the  public 
health  experience  in  the  world.  Public  health  work  is  really 
out  of  the  question  here  pro  tern.  I  am  picking  up  some  nurses 
from  the  army,  who  have  been  over  here  three  years. 


Evian  les  Bains,  October  12,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

Each  time  here  in  France  you  imagine  that  you  have  wit- 
nessed the  depths  of  misery  until  you  take  the  next  step.  It 
would  be  impossible  for  me  with  my  poor  descriptive  powers 
to  give  you  any  picture  of  the  arrival  of  the  trains  here  twice 
a  day  bringing  in  "rapatries"  from  Belgium.  These  poor  creat- 
ures arrive  500  at  a  time  night  and  morning.  You  can  imagine 
how  dirty  and  tired  they  are  after  three  days  and  nights  on  the 
crowded  trains,  no  sleeping  accommodations,  the  trains  filled 
with  paralyzed  and  decrepit  old  people  and  babies  and  children, 
up  to  twelve  years.  This  morning  an  Old  People's  Home 
arrived,  150  old  men,  mostly  blind  and  paralyzed.  I  carried 
two  paralytic  children  from  the  train.  As  the  train  approaches 
the  station  the  women  lean  out,  wave  and  shout,  "Vive  la 
France!" 

We  have  eight  American  ambulances  here  to  meet  the  trains 
so  the  march  to  the  Casino  is  not  so  painful  as  it  was.  The 
poor  people  have  taken  these  long  painful  journeys  three  times, 
first  from  their  village  to  another  French  town,  then  to  Belgium, 
from  Belgium  here,  and  now  they  say  "What  next?" 

So  many  children  get  lost  in  the  crowd  and  are  so  terribly 
frightened.  A  beautiful  little  girl  arrived  last  night  quite  alone, 


36      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

a  child  of  ten  years,  she  was  so  pitifully  frightened.  It  is  little 
girls  of  that  age  that  the  horrors  of  war  seem  to  have  the  worst 
effect  on.  It  often  stops  their  development.  They  have  a 
strained,  frightened  look  that  is  most  pitiful.  It  is  all  wonder- 
fully arranged  for  them  here  by  the  Lyons,  a  Madame  Gilet 
Motte  organized  the  whole  thing.  She  came  when  they  first 
began  this  business  to  meet  her  niece,  and  was  so  horrified  at 
the  tragedy  of  it  all  that  she  has  worked  day  and  night  ever 
since  for  these  poor  creatures.  After  leaving  the  train  they  are 
taken  to  the  Casino.  Last  night  it  was  a  heart  rending  sight 
to  see  this  long  black  procession  of  refugees  marching  along 
the  winding  road  laden  with  bundles  and  babies,  just  hobbling 
along. 

The  Casino  is  a  huge  place  where  they  are  all  comfortably 
seated  and  fed.  After  dinner  or  breakfast  as  it  may  be  the 
French  official  appears  dressed  in  evening  clothes,  high  silk 
hat  and  tricolor  silk  scarf  with  gold  fringe  around  his  waist, 
stands  on  a  platform  and  makes  a  stirring  speech  of  welcome, 
which  is  received  with  many  tears  and  shouts  of  joy,  and  "Vive 
la  France!"  Then  the  national  air  is  played  by  a  band  and  the 
people  march  out  to  be  ticketed.  Each  one  wears  a  tag  after 
that  until  he  is  finally  placed,  green  tag  for  "no  friends,"  pink 
for  "relations  expecting  him  somewhere  in  France,"  and  white 
for  "detained  because  of  illness  in  his  or  her  family."..  It  is  for 
the  latter  when  it  is  a  child  that  our  hospital  and  convalescent 
home  is  being  established.  We  have  the  most  ideal  villa,  it 
was  a  hotel  with  modern  plumbing.  There  are  three  buildings 
on  the  place  which  is  on  the  edge  of  Lake  Geneva.  The  first  is 
a  sort  of  outdoor  pavilion,  which  will  be  an  ideal  place  for  the 
sun  cure,  a  little  higher  up  a  nurses'  home,  a  small  house  for 
servants  and  on  the  hill  the  hospital,  which  is  ideal.  We  will 
commence  with  100  beds.  Mr.  Cornelius  Bliss  is  with  us  on  this 
trip.  He  returns  to  Washington  to  report.  He  is  very  much 
impressed  by  everything.  One  would  have  a  heart  of  stone  not 
to  be  overcome.  I  don't  know  whether  I  will  get  to  Lyons  or 
not. 

I  only  heard  yesterday  of  Douglas  MacMonagle's  death.  He 
died,  shot  through  the  temple  in  an  air  battle — very  gallantly. 

I  wish  I  could  get  Frederica  Otis  over  here.  She  would  be 
a  great  help.  The  great  difficulty  we  have  is  getting  people  to 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      37 

help  with  the  children  who  speak  French.  Very  few  girls  care 
to  work  with  children,  the  blesses  appeal  more.  For  instance, 
Margaret  Robins  would  be  so  much  more  help  with  children 
than  in  the  military  hospital.  There  are  more  people  over  here 
for  that  work  than  are  needed,  tell  Miss  Johnson  this  and  tell 
her  that  if  she  doesn't  speak  French,  she  is  useless  in  the  chil- 
dren's work.  Fortunately  my  work  is  organizing,  so  the  French 
is  not  so  important,  I  am  really  making  progress. 


Evian,  October  14,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  feel  so  exhausted  after  my  morning's  experience  that  I 
doubt  if  I  can  write  much  of  a  letter.  I  thought  yesterday  that 
nothing  could  be  sadder  than  the  sight  of  these  poor  families 
landing  at  Evian,  homeless,  penniless,  and  forlorn,  but  with  joy 
in  their  faces  at  being  again  in  France.  The  invariable  answer 
is,  when  you  ask  them  if  they  are  fatigued  after  their  three  days 
of  frightful  discomfort,  "I  was,  but  now  I  am  in  France,  all 
fatigue  is  forgotten."  The  worst  of  it  is  their  troubles  are 
anything  but  at  an  end.  The  difficulty  of  finding  them  home  is 
almost  unsurmountable.  When  you  think  of  1,000  people  of  all 
helpless  ages  arriving  in  one  small  town  every  day,  you  van 
imagine  what  it  means.  If  they  are  not  quickly  moved  on  the 
congestion  is  terrific,  so  trains  moving  them  in  and  moving 
them  out  are  always  being  met  by  a  stream  of  people,  nurses, 
attendants  and  ambulances.  Our  ambulance  men  are  doing 
fine  work  lifting  the  helpless  in  and  out  of  the  trains  and  ambu- 
lances. 


38      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Later.    On  the  Paris  train,  8  a.  m. 

I  began  this  letter  yesterday,  just  after  meeting  the  train 
filled  with  680  Belgium  children  under  12  years.  It  was  the  most 
tragic  sight  imaginable.  Two-thirds  of  the  children  were  taken 
from  their  parents  and  sent  to  France  to  be  supported.  The 
majority  of  the  children  arrived  in  a  very  excited,  happy  state 
of  mind,  shouting  "Vive  la  France!"  but  many  little  girls  wept 
bitterly.  Little  families  with  the  little  mother  at  the  head 
clung  together.  They  marched  to  the  Casino  where  they  were 
feted  and  given  flags.  After  a  good  dinner,  the  Prefect  made  a 
speech  of  welcome,  and  then  the  National  Anthem  was  played. 
You  should  have  seen  that  mob  of  pathetic  underfed,  grimy, 
helpless  infants,  standing  on  the  benches,  waving  their  two 
flags  violently  and  singing  at  the  tops  of  their  voices.  It  was  a 
really  heart-breaking  sight,  and  quite  too  much  for  the  older 
girls  who  put  their  heads  in  their  arms  and  sobbed  uncontrol- 
ably.  These  children  were  facing  starvation  and  their  mothers 
parted  with  them  to  save  them.  They  leave  Evian  this  evening 
to  be  scattered  over  France.  The  Belgian  Government  has 
charge  of  them.  I  was  shocked  to  see  many  little  boys  of  six 
or  eight  years  marching  by  me  calmly  smoking  cigarettes,  and 
they  were  all  given  wine  to  drink  at  the  dinner. 

I  left  Evian  last  night  at  6  p.  m.  and  had  a  horrible  night, 
six  of  us  sitting  up  in  a  compartment  without  a  breath  of  air, 
door  and  windows  tight  closed.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  we 
were  routed  out  for  a  customs  examination.  Some  chocolate 
was  found  in  my  bag  which  caused  much  trouble,  and  in  fishing 
for  some  money  to  pay  the  customs  one  franc,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  I  had  some  incriminating  letters,  so  I  was  marched 
off  by  a  soldier  to  another  place.  My  passports  were  demanded 
and  I  was  shut  up  in  a  little  room  while  the  letters  were  ex- 
amined. Of  course  they  were  nothing,  but  it  was  not  comfort- 
able as  I  was  alone. 

The  Swiss  frontier  is  to  be  closed  for  ten  days.  After  that  I 
understand  the  number  of  French  coming  in  will  be  doubled. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      39 


Paris,  October  15,  1917. 
To  C.  A.  S. 

I  arrived  in  Paris  this  morning,  perfectly  exhausted  after 
sitting  up  all  night  fourteen  hours  in  a  closed  compartment 
with  five  other  people.  We  were  lucky  to  get  that,  many  slept 
on  the  floor  in  the  corridor. 

We  are  opening  a  Children's  Hospital  of  100  beds  at  Evian. 
If  you  could  get  people  to  make  flannelette  nightgowns  for  us, 
we  would  be  delighted,  direct  to  Children's  Hospital,  Evian  les 
Bains,  Switzerland,  care  of  American  Red  Cross.  I  think  I 
wrote  you  that  one  thousand  French  people  from  the  north  of 
France,  who  had  been  deported  to  Belgium  five  months  ago, 
arrive  daily  at  Evian.  It  is  a  peculiar  task  to  find  lodgings  for 
them,  after  a  night  or  two  at  Evian  and  then  find  homes  or 
friends  for  them  all  over  France.  The  majority  of  them  are 
perfectly  helpless  people,  tiny  babies  carried  oftentimes  by 
sixteen-year-old  mothers,  Boche  babies  of  course.  This  has 
been  going  on  since  last  February,  500  at  6:30  a.  m.  and  500  at 
7  p.  m.  French  women  meet  the  trains,  help  the  sick  and  feeble 
of  whom  there  are  many  ambulance  loads.  As  you  look  at  this 
tragic  sight  poor  creatures  laden  with  their  pitiful  all,  baskets 
filled  with  strange  treasures,  you  find  that  it  is  the  survival  of 
the  unfit;  Germany's  gift  to  France.  To  add  horror  to  horror, 
on  Sunday  680  Belgium  children  arrived,  some  of  them  were 
orphans  but  the  majority  of  them  have  been  taken  from  their 
families  because  their  fathers  have  refused  to  work  for  the 
Germans.  The  poor  little  things  arrived  tired  and  forlorn  after 
a  three  days'  trip,  but  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  "Vive 
la  France!"  French  ladies  distributed  chocolates  to  them  at 
the  train  and  then  they  marched  to  the  Casino,  many  of  the 
boys  singing  but  the  litle  girls  were  frightened  and  many  of 
them  wept.  They  had  a  dinner  of  meat  and  potatoes,  which 
they  considered  a  great  treat  with  roasted  chestnuts,  chocolate 
and  wine  for  dessert.  Then  the  band  played  their  national 
hymn,  which  they  sang,  waving  French  and  Belgium  flags,  ex- 
cept those  who  were  so  overcome  by  the  music  that  they  put 
their  heads  on  the  table  and  wept.  I  have  never  been  so  over- 
come in  public  in  my  life,  men  and  women  sobbed  is  was  so 


40      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

dreadful.  The  children  were  fairly  well  dressed  but  looked 
under-fed.  Mr.  Cornelius  Bliss  made  the  trip  with  us,  he  is  on 
the  War  Council  at  Washington.  He  was  very  much  moved. 
Our  doctor  examined  all  these  children  during  the  afternoon, 
any  ill  children  who  come  in  the  future  will  go  either  to  our 
hospital  or  convalescent  home.  I  return  Friday  to  Evian  with 
eleven  nurses,  I  will  be  there  for  about  two  weeks  and  organ- 
ize the  work.  Everything  we  do  here  is  very  difficult  as  we 
have  to  satisfy  the  French  as  well  as  ourselves. 


Hopital  pour  enfants,  Hotel  du  Chatelet, 
Evian  des  Bains,  Huate  Savoie,  France. 

October,  19*7. 
To  A.  G. 

I  am  putting  on  the  above  address  in  case  you  have  anything 
to  send  for  the  children.  As  I  wrote,  flannelette  nightgowns 
will  be  our  great  need.  I  am  having  a  holiday;  this  is  such  a 
beautiful  place,  at  present  with  no  bad  sights,  as  the  rapatrie 
flood  has  stopped  until  November  1st,  and  our  hospital  has  not 
yet  opened.  While  writing  to  you,  I  am  listening  with  one  ear 
to  a  man  who  lived  in  Russia  for  25  years,  the  Czar's  dentist, 
an  American,  he  says  that  our  commission  made  no  impression 
on  Russia.  He  says  that  Russia  idolizes  Roosevelt.  It  is  most 
interesting  to  hear  his  tales  of  the  revolution.  He  was  in  Petro- 
grad  all  through  it,  the  truth  is  that  it  was  anything  but  a 
bloodless  revolution.  Although  the  Russian  news  is  bad,  the 
general  belief  here  is  that  Germany  will  gain  nothing  by  taking 
Petrograd,  just  a  longer  front  to  guard. 

We  took  such  a  wonderful  walk  yesterday,  about  ten  miles 
up  in  the  hills  behind  the  Chatelet,  almost  to  the  snow  line, 
I  have  never  seen  more  beautiful  autumn  foliage,  you  can 
imagine  it  against  the  snow  on  one  side,  the  reflection  in  the 
lake  on  the  othr,  the  air  is  so  wonderful  that  you  can  walk 
all  day  without  fatigue.  I  came  here  with  an  awful  cold  and 
already  feel  like  a  new  person.  I  will  be  here  for  two  weeks. 

I  had  two  letters  from  you  the  night  I  left  Paris,  I  read 
them  at  3  a.  m.  standing  under  a  lamp  in  the  corridor  of  the 
train. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      41 

We  have  such  a  fine  set  of  young  fellows  here,  I  am  fond 
of  them  all;  our  new  nurses  from  America  are  a  particularly 
fine  set  of  girls.  I  am  wondering  and  wondering  if  this  is  to  be 
a  thirty-years'  war.  • 


Evian  les  Bains,  October  29,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

Our  hospital  opened  yesterday  with  a  measles  case.  Every 
one  was  excited  and  ran  around.  It  was  quite  amusing.  Every 
one  said  before  we  opened  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  persuade 
the  mothers  to  part  with  their  children.  But  already  we  find 
that  we  are  being  swamped  with  children.  These  poor  ra- 
patries  seem  to  have  such  faith  in  the  Americans  that  they  trust 
us  implicitly. 

We  have  such  an  interesting  nurse  here;  she  has  been  three 
years  in  Serbia  and  Macedonia.  She  had  typhus  twice,  there 
were  only  two  nurses  in  the  hospital;  they  both  had  typhus  and 
were  nursed  by  Austrian  prisoners.  I  think  she  must  be  the 
nurse  Miss  Burke  described  who  found  the  Serbian  boys  and 
marched  hundreds  of  miles  with  them.  Thirty  thousand  of 
these  boys  between  the  ages  of  eight  and  eighteen  were  en- 
rolled in  an  army  and  marched  out  of  Serbia  in  order  to  save 
them.  Only  6,000  reached  their  destination,  the  rest  died  of 
starvation  en  route.  Miss  Simmonds  is  very  enthusiastic  over 
the  Serbs;  she  liked  the  Russians  very  much,  too;  she  came 
into  intimate  contact  with  the  men  of  six  armies;  it  was  a 
tremendous  experience. 

Just  before  leaving  Paris  I  had  a  most  wonderful  present; 
it  was  a  lace  sofa  cushion  made  by  a  French  soldier  in  a 
hospital.  I  visited  the  hospital  and  admired  this  lace  very 
much,  which  one  of  the  men  was  making.  All  of  the 
men  in  the  ward  were  making  lace;  they  had  patterns  before 
them  which  they  were  copying.  The  Mother  Superior  of  the 
place  had  it  made  up  for  me.  I  think  it  is  so  pathetic  to  see 
these  strong  men  turned  into  lace  makers. 

I  wish  you  would  interest  some  one  in  making  caps  for  our 
children  to  wear  when  they  are  being  disinfected,  it  is  very 
necessary. 


42      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

We  did  have  such  a  wonderful  trip  to  Chamonix;  arrived 
there  in  the  first  snow  storm  of  the  season;  it  was  like  a  fairy 
scene — so  many  trees  laden  with  huge  red  berries  and  these 
covered  with  snow.  The  autumn  foliage  is  so  beautiful — it 
makes  such  a  wonderful  contrast  in  the  snow.  It  was  hard  to 
realize  we  were  there  really  because  of  the  war. 

I  inspected  a  hotel  en  route  which  Dr.  Lucas  is  thinking  of 
for  a  convalescent  home,  it  is  most  unsuitable,  I  think.  He  has 
not  seen  it  and  probably  won't  go  there  after  my  report. 

We  are  to  have  a  convalescent  home  near  Lyons.  I  am  de- 
lighted with  our  nurses,  an  unusually  fine  set  of  women. 


Lyons,  November  1,  1917. 
To  L.  McL.  and  C.  A.  S. 

My  present  life  seems  to  deal  in  the  unexpected  even  more 
than  my  life  at  home.  After  spending  a  week  at  Evian  helping 
to  organize  the  new  hospital  which  is  open  now  with  twenty 
patients  (we  have  room  for  one  hundred  but  no  more  will  come 
until  the  rapatries  begin  to  arrive  again),  I  left  for  Lyons  where 
we  are  to  have  a  convalescent  home  for  children.  There  is  a 
wonderful  young  woman  here  who  organized  all  this  rapatrie 
work,  Madame  Gillet  Motte.  She  became  interested  in  it 
through  meeting  one  of  her  young  relatives  who  was  sent 
through,  she  found  the  child  utterly  forlorn,  dirty,  covered  with 
vermin  and  unattended  by  an  adult.  Madame  Gillet's  family 
is  very  rich.  She  comes  from  the  north  of  France.  Her  father 
and  mother  are  hostages  now,  they  have  been  held  as  such  for 
two  and  a  half  years.  Well,  Madame  Gillet  undertook  the  care 
of  all  the  children  who  arrive  separated  from  their  parents,  also 
the  orphans.  She  has  had  thousands  in  her  care,  at  present  she 
has  on  her  hands  1,200  who  have  not  yet  been  connected  with 
anyone.  She  has  them  scattered  all  over  in  houses  of  about  60 
beds  in  each. 

Just  to  give  you  an  idea  of  some  of  her  troubles,  diphtheria 
developed  in  one  house  last  week,  seven  of  the  children  died 
and  at  present  about  forty  of  them  are  down  with  it.  The 
seven  died  because  of  bad  hospital  care,  all  of  the  decent  medi- 
cal men  are  in  the  army. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      43 

Dr.  Lucas  expects  to  turn  the   German   Consulate   into   a 
hospital  for  children,  it  is  next  door  to  the  Gillet  home. 

On  my  arrival  at  Lyons  I  found  to  my  surprise  that  Dr. 
Lucas  had  arrived  the  same  day  from  Paris  with  Dr.  Richard 
Cabot,  Mr.  Devine  and  half  a  dozen  other  doctors.  I  was  so 
glad  to  see  Dr.  Cabot,  he  is  to  join  our  forces  and  we  need 
him  badly.  The  arrival  of  that  big  party  has  interfered  awfully 
with  my  work,  as  we  have  had  to  meet  the  Mayor,  be  enter- 
tained, etc.  Yesterday  we  drove  out  to  the  chateau  which  was 
left  by  a  rich  old  lady  for  a  convalescent  home  for  children.  I 
was  astounded  when  I  got  there  to  drive  through  the  most 
beautiful  woods,  and  at  the  top  of  the  hill  find  a  palace!  You 
never  say  such  a  place,  56  rooms,  besides  the  lodge  and  a  central 
heating  system.  It  is  high  and  overlooks  a  beautiful  country. 
We  found  three  old  servants  in  charge,  all  of  whom  I  promptly 
engaged,  to  relieve  their  minds.  The  butler  has  been  with  the 
family  forty-nine  years.  The  house  is  full  of  wonderful  old 
carved  furniture,  tapestries,  etc.,  which  belong  now  to  the 
grandsons  who  are  in  the  army.  I  shall  select  several  big 
rooms  and  store  them  pro  tern.  A  housekeeper  and  assistant 
arrived  this  a.  m.  from  Paris,  and  we  shall  go  to  the  chateau 
tomorrow  and  I  will  stay  with  them  there  a  few  days  to  plan 
it.  We  have  the  nurses,  the  beds  are  ready  and  this 
A.  M.  I  will  buy  sheets  and  blankets.  Children's  night- 
gowns are  our  biggest  problem,  and  while  I  think  of  it,  I  am 
crazy  for  some  caps  such  as  we  use  at  the  Farm  for  disinfect 
ing  heads,  just  a  mob  cap  made  of  gingham,  pink  probably, 
with  good  quality  elastic  in  it.  Do  get  some  one  busy  making 
these. 


Lyons,  Chateau  des  Halles,  November  4,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

Here  I  am  installed  in  a  palace  with  a  total  and  entire 
stranger  (Mrs.  Holzman),  and  a  French  architect  as  my  sole 
companions.  Dr.  Lucas  left  us  here  yesterday  after  going  over 
the  place  in  a  very  formal  way,  accompanied  by  a  number  of 
French  politicians,  all  dressed  in  black,  long  coats  and  high 
hats.  It  was  just  like  a  funeral  procession  and  the  house  cer- 


44      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

tainly  did  seem  impossible  for  the  moment.  But  after  a  delici- 
ous lunch  prepared  by  the  Chateau's  cook  and  served  by  the 
maitre  d'hotel,  we  felt  encouraged  to  go  ahead. 

We  have  really  worked  out  a  very  good,  feasible  plan,  which 
practically  shuts  off  half  of  the  house  which  is  not  heated. 
This  place  is  really  a  palace,  56  rooms  without  counting  farm 
houses,  stables,  etc.,  300  acres.  It  was  given  to  the  city  of 
Lyons  by  an  old  woman  who  gave  it  in  a  time  of  mental  de- 
pression. Nothing  could  be  more  unsuitable  than  it  is  for  a 
children's  home.  It  is  built  in  the  style  of  50  years  ago,  perfectly 
hideous,  huge  rooms  with  ceilings  three  stories  in  height..  We 
can  put  27  beds  in  the  dining  room.  Mrs.  Holzman,  who  is  here 
with  me,  is  a  treasure,  a  queer  combination  of  artist  (a  singer), 
and  very  practical,  has  run  girls'  camps  in  the  Adirondacks. 

We  have  planned  all  kinds  of  things  for  this  place  including 
an  Xmas  entertainment  for  the  village  children,  and  district 
nursing — there  are  any  number  of  little  villages  near  by  and 
not  a  doctor.  Mrs.  Holzman  is  a  very  capable  woman.  We 
can't  really  do  anything  towards  getting  the  chateau  in  order 
until  the  heir  to  the  furniture  arrives  and  selects  what  he  wants. 
It  is  awfully  pathetic,  the  house  is  full  of  relics  of  the  past 
with  no  one  to  claim  them.  One  stumbles  across  children's 
building  blocks,  uniforms  of  the  young  officer  who  went  down 
in  a  submarine,  and  all  kinds  of  little  things  which  make  one 
realize  how  uncertain  life  is,  to  think  that  these  precious  me- 
mentos are  being  put  aside  by  strange  Americans. 


Monday. 

There  is  a  beautifully  kept  farm  in  connection  with  the  place, 
17  cows,  chickens,  which  of  course  pleases  me,  hot  houses, 
rose  gardens,  walled  fruit  and  heavens  knows  what.  I  didn't 
take  time  to  really  investigate  it  all. 

We  returned  to  Lyons  in  order  to  see  Dr.  Lucas  before  his 
return  to  Evian.  He  was  delighted  with  our  plan  for  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  house,  which  really  is  very  good.  We  all 
dined  together.  The  young  doctor  arrived,  who  is  to  have 
charge  of  the  place. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  45 


Paris,  November  10,  1917. 
To  L.  McL.  and  C.  A.  S. 

You  can  imagine  my  disappointment  when  I  returned  from 
Lyons  after  a  three  weeks'  absence  to  find  that  I  had  missed 
a  visit  from  Loyall,  I  felt  like  crying.  One  of  the  hardest 
things  over  here  is  that  we  are  so  cut  off  from  those  we  love. 
It  is  a  comfort  to  me  to  know  that  Dick  and  Loyall  are  on  the 
same  continent  with  me.  My  birthday  letter  to  Dick  arrived  on 
the  day  of  his  birthday  and  the  cigarettes  right  after,  which 
seemed  to  please  him. 

So  many  of  the  big  doctors  are  arriving  here  from  home 
that  I  am  wondering  if  there  are  any  left.  You  both  write 
about  children's  clothes  so  I  am  going  to  answer  together:  We 
need  bloomers  for  all  ages  up  to  12  years:  rompers,  mob  caps 
(with  good  elastic)  for  disinfecting  heads;  aprons,  high  neck, 
long  sleeves,  NOT  black;  woolen  stockings  if  possible,  for 
winter;  flanelette  night  gowns,  all  sizes  to  10  years;  sweaters, 
dark  colors  to  pull  over  the  head,  with  sleeves;  woolen  dresses 
(could  be  made  of  old  material).  I  want  a  large  supply  of 
boys'  overalls  but  I  think  I  will  have  to  have  them  made  here. 
I  am  determined  to  introduce  our  overall  to  the  French  boy. 
The  black  satine  apron  he  wears  with  heavy  wood  soled  shoes 
is  enough  to  discourage  any  boy  from  having  a  good  rough 
game.  The  children  rarely  play  hard.  I  have  watched  them 
carefully  all  over  France;  now  I  have  decided  that  their  dress 
has  much  to  do  with  it. 

Madame  Gilet  is  enthusiastic  over  the  overall  idea  and  has 
begged  me  for  a  pattern  which  she  will  have  made  out  of  khaki 
in  her  husband's  factory.  It  is  the  ideal  garment  for  the  sun 
treatment,  just  cut  the  trousers  very  short  and  there  you  are 
with  a  perfectly  modest,  simple  garment.  Half  of  the  Frnech 
boys  in  Paris  have  already  discarded  the  apron  for  the  boy 
scout  uniform,  introduce  the  overall  and  the  nation  is  reformed! 

I  think  I  have  made  enough  suggestions  to  last  some  little 
time,  keep  you  all  busy  for  the  winter  knowing  that  neither 
of  you  have  anything  to  do  but  make  children's  clothes  for 
me,  but  be  sure  that  you  carefully  mark  anything  you  send  to 
the  "Children's  Hospital,"  Evian  les  Bains,  Hotel  Chalelet  of 
American  Red  Cross. 


46      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

I  was  glad  to  leave  Lyons,  it  is  the  most  doleful  city  I  ever 
was  in,  worse  than  Chicago,  the  same  atmosphere,  black  and 
grimy,  the  sun  never  shines  there.  It  really  should  be  very 
beautiful,  as  it  has  two  big  rivers  flowing  through  it,  and  lovely 
hills  around,  but  the  factory  smoke  combined  with  the  river 
fogs  casts  a  gloom  over  everything. 

Tomorrow  I  begin  lessons  with  a  French  Countess  who  is  a 
very  sweet,  attractive  woman,  whom  Dr.  Lucas  has  given  a 
position  as  translator  in  our  office,  although  she  speaks  little 
English.  I  worked  out  a  French  method  which  I  thought  would 
help  her  English  and  my  French  at  the  same  time.  For  instance, 
"Everyone"  "Tout  le  monde,"  she  was  to  read  the  English  and 
I  the  French.  When  I  suggested  this  she  said,  "No,  it  is  im- 
possible, for  you  do  not  speak  English,  you  speak  American." 
Well,  I  let  that  pass  without  argument,  saying,  "Perhaps  not, 
but  our  written  English  is  the  same,  we  learn  from  the  same 
literature."  "Ah!"  she  replied,  "mais  les  Anglais  n'ont  pas  une 
literature."  When  I  tell  this  story  to  an  English  woman  she 
laughs  heartily  at  the  first  part  and  I  am  sure  agrees,  but  when 
I  finish  the  story  she  is  way  up  in  the  air  and  furious.  It  is 
quite  amusing  to  watch  their  "re-action"  as  Dr.  Lucas  would 
say. 

I  have  met  a  type  of  English  man  and  woman  whom  1  find 
most  congenial  and  admire  very  much,  "The  Friends."  They, 
without  question,  continue  to  do,  and  have  done  the  best  work 
in  France  since  the  beginning  of  the  war.  Men  and  women, 
they  turn  their  hand  to  whatever  conies.  A  fine  young  fellow 
is  at  this  very  moment  installing  the  new  plumbing  for  us  in 
the  chateau  near  Lyons.  He  has  become  an  intimate  friend  of 
the  priest  in  the  village  where  he  is  working  and  keeps  his 
organ  in  repair  for  him. 

Dr.  Hilda  Clark  is  the  moving  spirit  of  the  society.  She 
lives  at  this  club,  The  Lyceum,  when  she  is  in  Paris  so  I 
know  her  well.  She  is  ill  now  and  in  England. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      47 

Paris,  November  12,  1917. 
To  E.  E.  S. 

Last  week  I  was  at  Lyons  en  route  for  Paris  from  Evian- 
les-Bains,  where  we  have  a  wonderful  hospital  for  children.  I 
spent  a  night  at  Chamonix  and  thought  of  you.  Isn't  it  beauti- 
ful there?  We  arrived  in  a  slight  snowstorm,  just  enough  to 
make  the  place  look  like  a  fairy  scene;  the  trees  were  all  bright 
red  or  yellow,  some  with  huge  bunches  of  red  berries  hanging 
from  them;  you  can  imagine  the  effect  in  the  snow.  But  I  am 
a  hoodoo  traveling.  I  seem  a  suspicious  character.  I  am  al- 
ways held  up.  The  last  time  I  came  through  Bellegarde  I  was 
arrested  twice,  at  midnight,  too,  just  for  smuggling  chocolate. 
No  one  told  me  it  was  dutiable  and  after  I  had  shown  my 
passports,  paid  duty,  explained,  etc.,  it  was  discovered  that  I 
was  carrying  letters  through  to  Paris,  another  excitement. 

I  was  shut  up  in  a  small  room,  scared  to  death  and  expect- 
ing to  be  put  through  the  third  degree  when  I  was  smilingly 
released.  Well,  last  week  I  avoided  all  these  sins  but  when 
I  showed  my  passport,  they  shook  their  heads,  asked  if  I  had 
come  from  Switzerland  and  put  me  aside  for  further  investi- 
gation. It  makes  one  so  nervous  as  I  hear  so  many  stories  of 
women  being  put  up  against  a  wall  and  shot.  Think  of  that 
happening  to  Auntie!  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
trouble  all  lies  in  the  fact  that  I  was  born  in  Stockton.  That 
place  has  always  been  a  curse  to  me.  I  believe  they  see  Stock- 
ton and  think  Stockholm.  When  my  bag  was  opened  last  time 
a  woman  inspector  accused  me  of  carrying  quantities  of  tobacco ; 
it  was  really  only  packages  of  punk,  which  I  assured  her  were 
to  warm  my  feet  with!  After  much  smelling  and  almost  chew- 
ing, she  was  persuaded  to  let  it  through  without  duty.  It 
sounds  very  funny  afterwards  but  I  assure  you  it  is  no  joke  to 
be  yanked  out  of  line  at  midnight,  and  it  always  is  midnight, 
to  be  investigated  by  three  excited  Frenchmen  in  a  strange 
tongue.  I  don't  attempt  to  make  explanations.  I  just  repeat 
"Non  Suisse,  je  suis  ete  a  Evian."  They  almost  shake  me 
sometimes,  but  I  feel  helpless  before  the  mystery  of  my  pass- 
port, carnet  rouge,  identification  cards,  etc.  I  just  hand  them 
out  and  let  them  talk.  An  English  speaking  Frenchman  came 
to  the  rescue  last  night  and  showed  them  how  foolish  they  were. 


48      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

I  was  traveling  on  a  military  transportation  and  all  that  fuss! 
But  I  evidently  have  the  countenance  of  a  spy  and  a  plotter. 
I  am  sending  the  above  which  I  wrote  to  Dick  McLaren.  I 
thought  Mr.  Sloss  would  be  amused  at  my  adventures.  The 
most  extraordinary  things  happen  to  me.  Every  time  I  return 
from  a  trip  the  entire  office  hangs  on  my  words  as  I  always 
have  something  queer  happen  to  me.  But  events  march  so 
rapidly  here  that  one  event  quickly  pushes  another  into  the 
background  and  I  fear  much  of  interest  will  be  forgotten  before 
my  return,  which  at  present  looks  far  in  the  future.  These  are 
very  black  days  but  everyone  here  is  so  cheerful  and  philosophi- 
cal that  I  won't  write  a  gloomy  letter — we  simply  must  bear 
what  comes. 


Wednesday. 

The  news  is  so  discouraging  this  morning  that  I  can  think 
of  nothing  else.  The  guns  are  turned  on  Venice,  it  is  really 
unbearable.  There  is  every  prospect  that  I  will  go  to  Rome 
soon  with  Dr.  Lucas.  Two  of  our  staff  leave  for  Italy  tonight 
to  take  a  look,  we  never  say  the  word  "survey." 

We  are  turning  the  German  Consulate  at  Lyons  into  a 
Children's  Hospital,  a  good  use  to  make  of  it. 

It  would  make  your  heart  ache  to  see  the  little  rapatries 
arrive  at  Evian  on  Lake  Geneva.  We  have  a  children's  hospital 
there  of  one  hundred  beds.  Twelve  hundred  of  these  poor  peo- 
ple arrive  every  day,  carrying  their  poor  pitiful  little  treasures 
under  their  arms.  Of  course  the  most  tragic  ones  are  those 
who  are  separated  from  their  families.  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes 
six  hundred  and  eighty  Belgian  boys  and  girls  come  through, 
two-thirds  of  whom  had  been  taken  from  their  mothers,  you 
can't  imagine  the  pathos  of  the  scene  of  their  arrival.  I  just 
lifted  up  my  voice  and  wept.  I  really  saw  red  and  for  the  first 
time  felt  that  I  would  like  to  be  behind  a  gun  and  do  all  the 
damage  I  could  to  the  soulless  destroyer  of  home  and  family. 
This  war  on  helpless  babes  is  too  much,  just  think  of  our 
children's  refuge  at  Toul,  where  we  have  given  shelter  to  four 
hundred  and  fifty  children  under  eight  years  of  age.  We  have 
been  obliged  to  put  up  black  curtains  at  all  the  windows  so 
that  the  night  lights  kept  burning  in  the  wards  will  not  be  seen 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      49 

by  the  German  air  planes,  they  select  by  preference  hospitals 
and  children's  refugee  camps,  isn't  it  unbelievable! 

We  are  gathering  around  us  here  such  a  fine  set  of  men  and 
women,  but  I  can't  help  realizing  when  I  see  them  arrive  how 
deeply  they  will  be  missed  and  needed  at  home,  the  world 
supply  of  such  people  is  not  enough  to  go  round. 

My  two  dear  nephews  are  over  here  and  I  can't  decide  which 
is  the  finer,  so  different  in  type,  both  Bayards,  "sans  peur,  et 
sans  reproche."  Think  that  each  may  at  any  moment  meet  his 
end  and  all  for  what?  Liberty  and  truth,  I  hope. 

I  love  to  think  of  your  peaceful  country  life,  working  side  by 
side  with  your  dear  children,  conserving  the  fruits  of  the  earth, 
not  destroying  them.  It  is  so  heartbreaking  to  see  all  the 
orchards  which  have  been  ruthlessly  destroyed  by  the  retreat- 
ing enemy,  and  now  beautiful  Italy  is  to  be  destroyed.  I  really 
can  think  of  nothing  else  today,  it  is  uppermost  in  my  thoughts. 

Paris,  November  15,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  hope  to  visit  the  "Friends"  place  at  Chalons  before  my 
return.  I  am  more  impressed  with  them  than  with  any  people 
over  here.  They  really  show  the  fruit  of  Christian  teaching, 
and  they  refuse  to  fight;  as  men  and  women  they  are  a  devoted 
band.  The  women  make  this  club  their  Paris  headquarters,  so 
I  see  quite  a  little  of  them.  They  all  show  a  spiritual  quality 
which  I  see  in  no  other  English  or  Americans.  These  people 
have  certainly  suffered  for  their  faith,  for  I  think  they  had  a 
hard  time  in  England  at  first;  now  everyone  respects  their 
splendid  work.  Dr.  Lucas  has  backed  them  up  in  every  way; 
he  is  sending  doctors  to  them  now,  and  I  hope  later  on  I  can 
get  them  nurses  as  well. 

The  trouble  about  Christianity  it  seems  to  me  is,  that  we 
choose  the  part  of  Christ's  teaching  which  suits  our  convenience 
and  leave  the  rest.  There  are  few  who  are  ready  to  really  lay 
down  their  lives  for  their  faith. 

I  stumbled  across  another  settlement  in  Paris  just  by  chance. 
The  moving  spirit  is  Mdlle  de  Rose,  a  descendant  of  an  uncle 
of  Jeanne  d'Arc.  Her  mother  is  a  duchess,  very  wealthy, 
influential  people.  Mdlle  de  Rose  conceived  the  idea  twelve 
years  ago  of  going  into  a  poor  quarter  of  Paris  to  live.  She 


50      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

has  been  teaching  every  week  in  a  sewing  school  in  this  quarter, 
the  5th  arrondissement,  near  the  Latin  quarter.  The  friend 
under  whom  she  was  working  died,  leaving  her  work  to  her  as 
a  legacy.  She  left  home  (an  unheard  of  thing  in  France)  and 
there  she  has  lived  ever  since,  contributing  every  penny  of  her 
income  to  her  work.  She  has  built  quite  a  wonderfully  planned 
tenement,  she  does  not  know  it  is  a  "model  tenement";  a  home 
for  working  girls,  also  wonderfully  planned;  conducts  all  kinds 
of  recreational  work;  has  a  chorus  of  three  hundred  voices,  and 
since  the  war  has  branched  out  into  an  Agricultural  Home  for 
Orphans.  But  before  I  get  on  to  that  subject,  I  must  tell  you 
of  her  trousseaux.  When  the  girls  go  to  work  and  leave  her 
younger  sewing  classes,  a  trousseau  is  started  for  them.  All 
the  materials  are  provided  for  all  kinds  of  under  garments,  bed 
linen,  etc.,  which  is  left  in  a  locker  at  the  settlement.  They 
have  no  name  for  their  work  and  have  never  published  a  report, 
although  large  sums  of  money  have  been  given  them  to  spend. 
Mile,  de  Rose  has  evolved  from  her  own  brain,  common  sense, 
experience  and  ingenuity,  a  wonderful  placing  out  system  for 
children.  She  forms  families  of  not  more  than  twelve,  all  ages, 
places  them  on  a  farm  in  charge  of  a  motherly  woman  and  there 
brings  them  up  normally.  These  farms  are  self-supporting,  all 
being  under  the  direct,  scientific  management  of  a  practical 
farmer.  They  bought  the  land  and  are  rapidly  paying  oft7  the 
mortgages  on  it.  She  has  at  present  about  twelve  of  these 
farm  colonies  under  her  supervision  and  is  increasing  them 
rapidly.  Her  right  hand  is  a  Miss  Hopkins,  an  American 
woman  who  turns  over  her  entire  income  to  the  place,  and  the 
day  I  saw  her  she  was  wearing  rubber  overshoes  because  she 
had  no  shoes.  Their  rule  is  never  to  ask  others  for  money 
while  they  have  a  cent  left  of  their  own.  As  far  as  I  could 
discover,  it  is  the  only  rule  they  have.  I  have  no  doubt  that  I 
shall  find  many  more  French  women  of  this  same  stamp,  but 
they  are  so  modest  about  what  they  do  that  it  is  difficult  to 
unearth  them. 

It  is  this  quality  that  appeals  to  me  in  the  French  more  than 
any  other;  but  it  is  really  very  inefficient  in  a  way  because  they 
have  no  co-operation.  I  am  sure  that  sixteen  "oeuvres"  as  they 
call  them,  help  one  family,  except  that  they  do  work  in  dis- 
tricts. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      51 

Read  this  letter  to  our  circle  if  you  think  it  will  interest 
them.  I  hope  they  are  sewing  for  my  babies,  do  not  kill  your- 
selves over  model  kits,  use  what  you  have.  I  can  see  little 
difference  between  the  clothes  of  the  French  children  and  our 
own,  anything  will  do. 


Nancy,  November  23,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

While  waiting  for  Dr.  Knox  to  make  a  formal  call  upon 
Madame  Mirman,  the  prefect's  wife,  I  hope  to  start  a  letter  to 
you.  We  have  had  a  fine  trip  together.  After  inspecting  Toul, 
we  came  on  to  Nancy  where  we  found  a  most  cordial  welcome. 
Monsieur  Mirman,  the  prefect,  is  a  very  unusual  man  and  so 
lovely  and  simple,  as  all  really  big  people  are.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  him  stand  before  the  infant  class  in  one  of  his  refuge 
schools  and  go  through  all  the  motions  with  the  children,  of 
one  of  those  kindergarten  songs — it  was  really  touching — and 
so  unconscious  of  our  presence.  He  is  so  eager  for  our  help 
for  his  dear  children  and  most  appreciative.  I  talked  over  with 
him  the  possibility  of  introducing  play  ground  workers,  and  he 
jumped  at  the  idea.  We  arranged  for  another  series  of  dispen- 
saries with  a  center  from  which  to  work  at  Luneville,  we  now 
have  one  at  Nancy  which  is  supported  by  the  American  Fund 
for  French  Wounded  (Chicago),  but  under  our  supervision. 

Dr.  Brown  had  fifty  patients  in  one  small  town  yesterday 
and  was  obliged  to  turn  away  twenty.  Our  boys  are  camped 
all  about  here.  Yesterday  we  saw  one  who  was  wounded  and 
who  had  received  the  croix  de  guerre.  All  of  his  comrades 
were  so  proud  of  him.  When  I  entered  the  ward  filled  with  our 
wounded,  a  lump  came  into  my  throat,  a  different  feeling  from 
any  one  has  when  visiting  other  hospitals. 

The  most  really  shocking  thing  I  have  seen  was  in  one  of 
these  towns  which  is  constantly  under  shall  fire.  The  little 
cemetery  is  a  complete  wreck.  The  graves  have  literally  been 
rent  asunder  and  the  coffins  lie  exposed  to  the  naked  eye. 

We  visited  a  baker  (a  woman)  who  lives  and  bakes  in  a  house 
the  top  of  which  is  quite  gone,  just  a  mass  of  debris  and  the 
back  all  gone.  The  oven  is  still  intact  and  when  the  bom- 
bardment is  too  severe  she  retires  to  her  oven  for  protection! 


52      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

She  had  a  big  bowl  of  chrysanthemums  on  the  counter  and  a 
man  next  door  was  making  delicious  chocolate  creams  between 
bombardments,  as  it  were.  It  is  all  so  extraordinary. 


Chalons-Sur-Marne,  November  23,  1917. 

Dr.  Knox  and  I  arrived  here  last  night  to  inspect  the 
Friends'  work.  They  have  a  maternity  hospital  which  they 
opened  in  December,  1914.  You  can't  imagine  anything  more 
uncomfortable  than  the  way  in  which  they  live,  so  over  crowded, 
every  inch  given  up  to  the  babies.  I  consider  Miss  Pye  a  real 
heroine,  and  such  a  sweet,  lovely,  gentle  woman,  with  big  black 
intelligent  eyes.  Dr.  Lucas  has  been  so  impressed  by  her.  He 
has  got  the  Red  Cross  to  give  them  lots  of  money.  We  are 
financing  a  "baby  house"  for  them,  an  old  chateau  where  refugee 
babies  under  3  years  are  kept. 

Dr.  Knox  is  thrilled  by  his  trip,  the  first  he  has  seen  of  the 
war  zone.  He  is  to  have  this  district  under  his  care.  A  series 
of  First  Aid  stations  will  be  established  all  along  the  line  with 
hospitals  in  the  rear  to  send  the  really  sick  to.  I  feel  so  hope- 
ful for  the  future  of  this  district.  We  will  do  real  district  work 
now.  I  think  I  wrote  you  that  the  traveling  shower  was  ours! 


Lyons,  November  30,  1917. 
To  L.  McL. 

I  have  just  come  in  from  our  convalescent  home  30  miles 
from  Lyons.  It  is  in  beautiful  order.  I  was  quite  surprised 
to  find  what  had  been  accomplished  in  three  and  a  half  weeks, 
plumbing  installed,  walls  protected  very  cleverly,  carpets  up, 
floors  polished;  in  fact,  an  inconveniently  arranged  palace  made 
into  a  comfortable  hospital  because  the  children  there  are  not 
really  convalescent.  It  is  such  a  pleasure  to  see  the  children 
installed,  to  have  that  impossible  place  put  to  such  a  good  use. 
We  have  there  a  splendid  co-operative  set  of  workers,  all  pull- 
ing together. 

Little  Hannah  Hobart  is  getting  on  well  and  happily  at 
Evian,  she  is  a  little  trump. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      53 


Lyons,  December  1,  1917. 
To  E.  E.  S. 

Just  a  line  to  wish  you  all  the  blessings  of  the  season.  This 
is  not  intended  to  be  a  letter,  just  a  greeting,  as  I  feel  that  I 
must  be  in  touch  with  my  best  friends  at  this  time. 

I  have  just  come  from  our  convalescent  home  which  is 
located  in  a  palace,  I  call  it,  such  a  contrast  to  the  Hill  Farm, 
but  not  nearly  so  well  fitted  up  for  children's  use,  although  as 
there  are  lovely  woods  close  by,  I  am  sure  that  the  children 
will  have  a  happy  time  there  in  the  summer  and  this  is  to  be 
a  permanent  place,  so  it  is  a  pleasure  to  fit  it  up  comfortably. 

I  am  in  Paris  very  little,  just  a  few  days  at  a  time,  but  I  have 
time  on  Sundays  to  see  friends.  I  won't  mar  my  Xmas  letter 
by  writing  of  gloomy  things,  so  it  must  be  brief  as  nothing  is 
very  cheerful  here  at  present,  although  the  Germans  seem  to  be 
checked  in  Italy.  Our  bureau  may  extend  its  activities  to 
Rome,  in  which  case  I  will  probably  be  sent  there,  I  don't 
mean  permanently.  My  work  is  intensely  interesting,  in  fact 
quite  exciting,  as  I  have  to  fly  from  one  spot  to  another  adjust- 
ing difficulties  which  are  really  generally  very  simple  tangles 
which  untrained  people  have  become  involved  in.  I  am  always 
welcomed  with  open  arms  which  is  a  pleasant  side  of  it,  and 
have  so  far  managed  to  be  a  traveling  interference  without 
being  hated  by  everyone. 

We  have  at  present  about  600  children  under  our  direct  care 
whom  we  house,  feed  and  clothe,  besides  those  under  the  care 
of  the  doctors  and  nurses  in  about  ten  dispensaries.  We  open 
a  big  welfare  center  in  Paris  January  1st  with  the  Rockefeller 
Institute  people,  who  are  launching  a  big  tuberculosis  campaign. 


Paris,  December  11,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

As  I  have  a  bad  cold  and  cough  fortunately  it  is  Sunday. 
I  shall  go  to  the  American  church  this  morning.  This  certainly 
is  a  beastly  climate;  one  day  of  sunshine  in  four  weeks  so  far. 
Just  damp,  cold,  thick  black  penetrating  fog.  I  have  had  three 
bad  colds  since  I  left  home,  although  otherwise  I  am  very  well. 


54      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Everyone  here  is  busy  over  the  soldier's  presents.  This  club  is 
the  center  of  the  packing.  You  can  imagine  what  it  means  to 
get  off  200,000  packages.  I  have  been  contributing  nurses  to 
the  work,  ten  this  week.  It  takes  nurses  or  anyone  in  fact, 
about  one  week  to  get  out  of  Paris  after  reaching  here,  so  I 
have  set  them  to  work  in  the  interim  with  the  A.  F.  F.  W., 
(Mrs.  Lathrop),  which  is  good  for  co-operation.  I  can  often 
help  in  ways  of  that  kind  here  where  most  of  the  R.  C.,  al- 
though doing  splendid  work  in  their  own  pursuits,  do  not  real- 
ize how  much  is  going  on  outside.  I  chum  with  all  kinds  of 
people,  exchanging  ideas  and  workers  with  them.  My  cosmo- 
politan bringing  up  is  very  useful  to  me.  It  seems  to  me  that 
San  Francisco  people  have  more  ramifications  than  any  other 
people  in  the  world. 

Evelyn  Preston,  Ralph  Preston's  daughter,  is  Miss  Byrnes' 
chum.  She  is  working  awfully  hard  in  Dr.  Lambert's  office.  I 
think  these  young  girls  deserve  a  lot  of  credit  for  this  hard 
office  work  they  are  doing,  typing  from  morning  to  night. 

I  hope  to  have  an  Xmas  Eve  dinner  for  the  young  people 
and  there  is  some  chance  that  Dick  may  get  off  for  it;  and 
another  dinner  on  Xmas  Day  for  forlorn  nurses  who  may  be 
stranded  in  Paris.  I  will  go  to  the  American  church  in  the 
morning,  Madame  Gotz  has  invited  me  to  lunch.  Major  Murphy 
gathered  us  all  together  yesterday,  the  sixth  months'  anniver- 
sary of  the  starting  of  the  Red  Cross  in  France.  It  is  really 
quite  wonderful  what  has  been  accomplished,  a  herculean  task 
has  been  undertaken  and  well  organized.  As  he  said,  each  of 
us  sees  only  the  defects  of  his  part  in  the  organization  and 
can  not  see  the  result  as  a  whole.  I  think  we  have  accomplished 
in  our  bureau  a  great  deal  in  the  short  time  since  it  was 
organized,  just  four  months.  We  have  four  hospitals  and 
twelve  dispensaries  with  about  15  doctors  and  100  nurses  and 
aides  at  work,  besides  the  Paris  office,  which  investigates  and 
passes  on  the  claims  of  every  children's  society  in  France, 
orphan  asylum  creches,  etc.  I  am  afraid  this  sounds  boastful, 
but  you  can  have  no  idea  of  the  terribly  discouraging  times 
we  have;  the  nurses  nearly  go  mad  with  the  difficulties,  for 
instance,  Dr.  Baldwin  at  Nesle  in  the  war  zone  has  been  running 
three  dispensaries  and  a  hospital  for  two  months  without 
gauze,  alcohol,  or  night  gowns.  Fortunately,  I  have  been  able 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      55 

to  supply  things  from  time  to  time  out  of  funds  which  have 
been  sent  me,  in  fact,  I  bought  night  gowns  for  the  above  place 
and  put  them  in  a  nurse's  trunk.  Express  simpry  never  arrives 
in  the  war  zone,  except  for  the  army. 


Paris,  Sunday,  Dec.  15,  1917. 
To  A.  G. 

I  have  had  such  a  quiet  and  uneventful  week  that  there  is 
very  little  to  write  you  about  today.  Two  American  mails  have 
come  in  without  a  letter  from  you  though  I  am  sure  you  have 
written.  We  seem  to  live  only  for  the  mails.  We  share  our 
letters  and  are  interested  in  those  from  total  strangers. 

I  am  going  to  drag  the  sadness  out  of  Xmas  day  by  having 
two  dinners;  one  on  Xmas  Eve,  one  on  Xmas  day.  One  for 
Miss  Byrne  and  the  young  people  and  the  other  for  the  nurses 
and  any  aides  who  may  be  here  at  that  time.  It  is  possible 
that  Dr.  Lucas  may  return  on  the  22d,  unless  he  gets  an  ex- 
tended leave  from  the  U.  C.  Dr.  Knox  will  carry  out  his  plans, 
he  straightened  out  my  department  which  is  now  running  like 
clockwork  and  everyone  happy. 

I  must  tell  you  one  thing  which  we  all  feel  pretty  much  the 
same  about  and  that  is  our  feeling  about  the  war.  We  feel  that 
in  the  future  (I  mean  by  next  spring),  if  the  war  continues, 
all  our  efforts  should  be  directed  toward  the  men.  I  think  it 
will  be  more  and  more  difficult  to  get  over  here  and  those  of 
us  who  are  here  must  turn  to,  for  our  army.  It  is  our  first 
obligation.  I  do  not  know  which  I  consider  the  most  important; 
the  social  or  nursing  side  of  it.  They  are  both  vital.  If  the 
men  are  not  looked  after  morally,  what  hope  have  we  in  the 
future  of  the  race?  Our  men  beg  for  help;  they  constantly 
stop  me,  a  total  stranger,  on  the  street  and  beg  me  to  do 
something.  The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  has  taken  hold  splendidly,  but 
the  job  is  a  gigantic  one.  I  would  not  urge  Dr.  Blake  to 
come  over  except  in  the  spring  with  the  army,  then  every 
available  man  will  be  needed. 


56      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Paris,  December  26,  1917. 
To  Willing  Circle. 

Your  "round-robin"  was  fine,  it  came  about  a  week  ago,  but 
I  played  fair  and  didn't  read  a  line  until  early  Christmas  morn- 
ing. I  was  very  lucky,  because  all  my  Xmas  letters  came  on 
time,  at  least  I  think  they  did,  but  there  may  be  more  en  route 
which  I  sincerely  hope  to  be  the  case,  as  letters  from  home  are 
my  only  consolation.  You  see  no  one  really  tells  you  the  same 
things,  so  in  order  to  get  all  the  news  you  long  for,  you  have 
to  piece  the  news  together. 

It  is  really  quite  funny  about  the  family  news,  each  one 
takes  so  for  granted  that  some  one  else  has  told  the  real  item 
of  interest  that  no  one  does  anything  but  refer  casually  to  it 
or  if  they  do  the  letters  all  go  down. 

We  have  been  quite  worried  about  one  of  our  doctors,  Dr. 
Knox.  He  had  an  operation  for  appendicitis  three  days  ago, 
is  doing  well,  but  we  had  quite  a  scare  about  him.  We  are 
like  one  big  family  here,  it  is  really  quite  remarkable  that  so 
many  people  can  be  collected  together  so  indiscriminately  and 
work  together  so  harmoniously.  There  are  about  twenty  people 
in  the  Paris  office  and  about  one  hundred  and  ten  outside  and 
all  pulling  together.  In  fact,  you  can  feel  proud  of  our  whole 
Red  Cross  organization  over  here.  Of  course  mistakes  are 
made  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  lots  more  will  be  made,  but  we 
have  two  fine  men  at  the  head,  Major  Murphy  and  Major  Per- 
kins, and  their  spirit  pervades  the  whole  organization.  I  think 
they  have  accomplished  marvels  in  the  short  space  of  time,  just 
six  months — we  have  been  here  four. 

I  am  writing  thus  fully  on  this  subject  because  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  you  will  hear  much  adverse  criticism,  but  simply 
don't  believe  it.  I  have  never  seen  harder  working  or  more 
sincere  people  than  are  here  in  the  Red  Cross,  and  they  are 
directed  by  men  of  a  high  order  of  intelligence.  We  all  get 
discouraged  at  times,  but  at  present  Paris  is  very  hopeful  of  the 
outcome  of  the  war,  victory  and  peace  in  the  near  future.  We 
can  at  least  all  hold  the  thought. 

You  will  most  of  you  be  interested  to  know  that  I  went  to 
the  opera  last  Saturday  night  with  Mrs.  Coit,  escorted  by  Willie 
Gwin,  who  is  doing  fine  work  with  A.  F.  F.  W.  I  have,  by  the 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      57 

way,  joined  the  staff  of  the  latter.  I  am  to  make  inspections  for 
them  of  French  military  hospitals  which  I  will  do  when  I  pass 
them  en  route  on  my  other  inspections.  This  is  an  example  of 
Red  Cross  co-operation  with  other  societies. 


New  Year's  Day,  1918. 
To  E.  E.  S. 

This  is  New  Year's  Day  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  not  drop 
in  upon  your  happy  little  family  today  and  wish  you  all  the 
blessings  for  the  coming  year. 

Your  New  Year's  letter  reached  me  last  night  and  I  was 
more  touched  than  I  can  tell  you,  to  receive  the  Mothers'  Club 
contribution.  You  must  tell  them  how  pleased  I  was,  but  I 
will  write  myself  to  thank  them.  I  have  had  many  touching 
evidences  that  my  friends,  both  high  and  lowly,  have  not  for- 
gotten me  this  Christmas  time.  A  letter  from  the  old  doctor 
at  the  Farm  gave  such  a  graphic  account  of  affairs  there  that  I 
could  hear  the  pigs  squeak.  She  says  they  put  up  apricots  and 
blackberries,  I  am  wondering  what  you  did  with  all  the  fruit 
you  canned.  You  say  you  and  Mr.  Sloss  wept  over  my  letters, 
well,  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  one  sad  thing  in  this.  For  the 
day  I  will  try  to  forget  the  sadness  of  the  world.  I  have  estab- 
lished an  Emergency  Fund  with  the  various  gifts  which  have 
been  sent  me,  some  of  the  men  in  the  office  hearing  of  it  have 
contributed.  We  are  supporting  out  of  it  a  little  family  of  five 
until  the  father  has  sufficiently  recovered  from  an  operation  to 
support  them.  The  news  of  this  help  was  the  mother's  New 
Year's  gift,  wasn't  that  nice?  (She  has  a  baby  two  months 
old.)  I  also  got  a  few  toys  for  her  children.  It  is  really  very 
difficult  for  the  Red  Cross  to  take  care  of  individual  cases. 

I  had  such  a  nice  Xmas,  twenty-five  letters,  wasn't  that  fine? 
They  made  me  feel  happier  than  I  have  been  since  my  arrival. 
It  is  nice  to  know  that  you  are  not  forgotten.  One  feels  some- 
times over  here  so  completely  overwhelmed  by  the  terrors  of 
life  that  you  can  hardly  believe  that  friends  at  home  are  just 
the  same  faithful  stand-bys  as  ever.  I  certainly  am  blessed  in 
my  friends,  they  are  such  worthwhile  people,  all  true  blue. 

I  am  deeply  interested  in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  work.  They  are 
doing  wonders  for  the  morals  of  the  men.  I  only  regret  that 


58      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

the  officers  are  excluded  from  their  recreation  centers.  Dick 
and  Loyall  Sewall  say  they  look  with  longing  eyes  at  the 
brightly  lighted  places  and  stand  out  in  the  cold  to  listen  to 
the  music.  I  suppose  that  will  develop  later. 

I  might  as  well  tell  you  now  that  deeply  as  I  am  interested 
in  the  children,  and  you  know  how  my  heart  goes  out  to  them, 
my  deepest  interest  is  with  our  boys,  Dick  and  Loyall  and  their 
friends  give  me  such  a  vivid  picture  of  camp  life,  the  cold  hard 
times,  homesick  days  and  the  general  misery  of  it  all,  that  I 
know  that  if  the  time  comes  when  the  hospitals  are  overflow- 
ing with  our  men  and  nurses  are  needed  for  them,  all  the 
French  babies  in  the  world  won't  keep  me  from  them.  After 
all,  blood  is  thicker  than  water,  and  these  boys  are  our  very 
own.  And  they  are  such  young  boys,  most  of  them,  so  care- 
free and  happy.  I  went  with  one  of  them  the  other  day  to 
choose  toys  for  the  Xmas  tree  the  regiment  was  having  for  the 
children  of  the  town.  He  was  so  young  and  enthusiastic.  I 
wondered  if  he  would  see  another  Xmas.  The  regiment  that 
Loyall  Sewall  is  in  is  infantry.  It  is  considered  to  be  the  most 
dangerous  branch  of  the  service.  He  has  already  been  under 
fire,  had  three  men  killed  at  his  side  and  has  been  into  No 
Man's  Land. 

Now  I  thank  God  the  snow  has  stopped  the  slaughter  for  a 
time  and  peace  may  come  before  spring.  It  is  our  only  hope. 
Here  I  am  talking  tragedies  which  I  swore  not  to  mention,  but 
one  always  comes  to  the  vital  things  at  last. 

I  have  been  up  till  11  p.  m.  every  night  filling  soldiers' 
Christmas  bags,  300,000  were  filled  for  ours  and  the  French. 


Paris,  January  7,  1918. 

To  A.  G.  at  Red  Cross  Headquarters. 

Your  notice  of  the  sixth  of  December,  stating  that  you  had 
forwarded  a  case  of  children's  clothing  to  the  Children's  Bureau, 
Paris,  was  received  by  me  today.  The  selection  is  very  good 
and  I  feel  sure  will  fill  a  real  need.  We  find  warm  night  gowns 
for  children  quite  impossible  to  secure  here,  wouldn't  it  be  pos- 
sible to  divert  the  work  from  baby  kits  for  a  time? 

I  wish  you  had  seen  the  joy  with  which  your  Xmas  bags 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      59 

were  received.  They  did  not  go  after  all  to  men  in  a  hospital 
as  Mrs.  Vail  advised  me  to  give  them  to  men  leaving  for  the 
trenches  as  they  suffer  so  from  the  cold,  you  know  the  bags 
contained  woolen  socks  which  I  had  made  by  refugee  women. 
The  men  were  so  pleased  with  the  writing  paper,  I  saw  some  of 
them  counting  the  sheets.  The  poilu  certainly  is  a  most  ap- 
pealing being,  he  is  so  simple  and  pathetic  to  me.  Yesterday 
was  the  feast  of  the  Epiphany,  so  a  special  send-off  was  given 
the  men  going  to  the  front.  It  is  wonderful  to  see  the  spirit 
with  which  the  French  women  conduct  their  canteens  after  all 
these  weary  years  of  war.  I  wonder  if  we  will  work  with  the 
same  enthusiastic  spirit  at  the  end  of  three  long  years  if  we  are 
called  upon  to  do  it.  The  room,  last  night,  was  so  attractively 
decorated,  good  food  was  served  and  the  final  touch  given  when 
cigarettes  were  freely  distributed.  I  wish  you  could  have  heard 
200  men  sing  the  simple  peasant  songs  and  clap  their  hands  in 
unison.  The  singing  of  the  Marseillaise  was,  of  course,  the 
grand  finale,  it  was  splendid,  just  sent  shivers  up  and  down  your 
spine,  knowing  that  many  of  the  men  will  never  return  to  their 
homes. 

We  all  regret  that  we  are  to  lose  Major  Murphy  who,  being 
a  West  Point  man,  is  returning  to  the  army  where  all  men  of 
sense  are  needed.  I  am  glad  he  is  going  but  sorry  to  have  him 
leave  us. 


Hoel  Vouillemont,   15  Rue   Boissy  D'Anglas 
(Place  de   la   Concorde) 

Paris,  January  20,  1918. 
To  J.  S. 

My  impulse  upon  receiving  your  nice  letter  containing  the 
check  from  Mrs.  Heller  was  to  sit  down  and  write  you  immedi- 
ately I  received  it,  New  Year's  Eve,  and  here  it  is  almost  the 
last  of  January  and  your  letter  not  acknowledged  yet.  But  as 
you  know,  I  lead  a  very  strenuous  life  and  even  Sundays  are  not 
free  as  I  have  a  French  lesson  early  in  the  morning,  then 
church  and  in  the  afternoon  try  to  help  with  the  soldiers  tea 
parties.  They  are  so  hungry  for  the  sound  of  an  American 
woman's  voice  that  it  is  pathetic.  When  I  travel  I  am  con- 


60      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

stantly  stopped  by  our  men  who  beg  me  just  to  speak  to  them. 
On  one  occasion  I  used  a  slang  expression  to  one  of  them  and 
he  just  slapped  his  leg  in  delight,  saying,  "That's  the  stuff— 
that's  what  I  like  to  hear."  It  is  so  pathetic  to  me.  One  fel- 
low stopped  one  of  our  nurses  on  the  street  and  after  a  few 
preliminary  words  asked  her  if  she  would  mind  if  he  read  his 
mother's  letter  to  her. 

Really,  a  great  deal  is  done  to  fill  this  need  both  by  the 
Red  Cross  and  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  but  they  don't  begin  yet  to 
touch  it.  It  is  all  such  a  colossal  task.  General  Wood,  who 
took  me  off  to  lunch  the  other  day,  predicts  that  we  will  need 
50,000  nurses  before  this  awful  thing  is  over.  I  am  very  much 
excited  and  overcome  at  present  over  the  description  a  girl 
gave  me  of  hundreds  of  Serbian  discharged  prisoners  she  had 
seen  with  her  own  eyes  while  visiting  the  hospitals  who  have 
tuberculosis  of  the  glands  of  the  neck,  which  extends  down  the 
shoulder  to  the  arm.  These  men  were  captured  by  the  Austri- 
ans,  inoculated  with  tuberculosis  and  then  discharged.  Isn't  it 
unbelievable?  I  would  not  believe  it  but  from  an  eye  witness. 
Their  case  is  very  pitiful  as  they  get  no  allowance  as  the 
French  soldiers  do,  so  they  can't  even  buy  a  cigarette. 

My  sister's  boy,  Loyall  Sewall,  has  just  been  transferred  to 
the  tank  service,  doesn't  that  sound  terrible?  I  am  afraid  my 
heart  and  thoughts  are  more  with  our  men  these  days  than 
with  the  poor  pitiful  French  babies,  although  all  my  work  is 
for  them.  We  simply  can't  keep  up  with  the  demands  on  us. 
I  am  desperate  for  nurses. 


Paris,  January  27,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  has  been  a  very  intense  week,  full  of  excitements  of  all 
kinds.  I  hardly  know  how  to  begin  the  chronicle.  Our  work 
is  increasing  by  leaps  and  bounds.  This  big  educational  cam- 
paign which  Dr.  Lucas  is  launching  has  quite  upset  the  ma- 
chinery of  the  bureau.  It  has,  as  I  wrote  you  last  week,  thrown 
the  Paris  work  into  my  hands.  Between  acts  I  have  been  try- 
ing to  supervise  their  work.  It  is  so  far  purely  a  settlement 
proposition.  The  settlements  themselves  haven't  the  vaguest 
idea  of  the  duties  or  possibilities  of  real  district  nursng.  Their 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      61 

so-called  visiting  nurses  are  purely  and  simply  social  workers. 
In  fact,  every  one  has  to  be  taught. 

Fortunately  I  have  a  splendid  woman,  Miss  Phelan  from 
Chicago.  She  is  taking  hold  well,  and  I  feel  sure  will  be  a 
splendid  help  to  me. 

We  have  to  double  our  hospital  at  Toul  to  take  in  the  chil- 
dren from  other  hospitals  which  are  being  evacuated  to  prepare 
for  the  big  Boche  offensive,  which  is  expected  any  day.  Air 
raids  are  expected  every  night  on  Paris  and  altogether  there  is 
a  very  tense  feeling  in  the  air.  I  expect  to  have  a  very  interest- 
ing trip,  as  that  region  is  very  active. 


Paris,  January  28,  1918. 
To  L.  McL.  and  C.  A.  S. 

I  am  going  to  make  an  effort  to  write  two  letters  at  once 
as  now  that  you  are  all  so  scattered  it  is  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  keep  up  with  the  weekly  letters  unless  I  type  them 
which  you  can  see  that  I  do  very  badly,  but  I  can  do  it  more 
rapidly  than  it  takes  to  write.  Personally  I  hate  typed  letters, 
but  I  know  you  will  be  very  forgiving.  My  work  is  increasing 
by  leaps  and  bounds.  My  day  begins  at  five  or  six  a.  m.,  never 
later  and  ends  at  seven.  You  know  I  never  am  any  good  at 
night,  so  I  just  don't  attempt  it. 

Last  week  was  much  cheered  up  by  letters  from  home,  some 
dated  the  tenth  of  December,  and  others  December  30th,  none 
on  Xmas  day,  although  I  feel  pretty  sure  you  and  Alice  and 
Camilla  wrote  me  on  that  day.  They  will  come  later. 

I  received  a  letter  from  the  National  Council  of  Defense 
asking  my  advice  on  the  subject  of  aides  being  sent.  "To  be 
or  not  to  be,  that  is  the  question."  My  plan  would  be  to  have 
them  sent  to  me  first  and  after  I  had  tried  them  out  to  transfer 
them  to  the  military  service,  if  they  need  them,  which  they  do 
not  at  present.  This  would  be  too  simple  a  solution  of  the  diffi- 
culty to  go  through,  I  am  sure. 

I  had  such  an  interesting  day  on  Sunday.  I  lunched  with 
Miss  Derby,  there  I  met  Sothern,  the  actor,  who  looked  too 
queer  in  Y.  M.  C.  A.  uniform.  He  is  here  to  advise  on  the  best 
form  of  entertainment  for  our  men,  he  anticipated  much  diffi- 
culty in  making  the  American  public  see  the  necessity  of  it  and 


§2  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

was  relieved  and  surprised  to  learn  that  the  public  were  pretty 
well  educated  on  the  value  of  play.  It  is  planned  to  establish 
250  theatres  for  the  men  in  the  camps,  if  such  they  could  be 
called,  these  queer  looking  settlements  of  our  men  in  French 
villages. 

Later  I  had  tea  with  two  of  my  old  Presbyterian  hospital 
mates  who  have  been  here  nursing  the  poilus  since  the  beginning 
of  the  war.  Miss  Allen  is  now  with  the  English,  bue  does  not 
care  for  them  nearly  as  much  as  the  French ;  every  nurse  has  lost 
her  heart  to  the  poilu,  his  bravery  under  the  knife,  never  failing 
cheerfulness  and  love  for  his  children  draws  all  hearts  to  him. 
Miss  Warner  had  just  been  to  the  wedding  of  a  poilu  who  has 
lost  both  his  hands  and  earns  his  living  as  a  clerk;  he  writes 
a  wonderful  hand.  I  contributed  100  frs.  out  of  our  fund  to 
help  start  him  in  housekeeping,  people  with  pluck  like  that 
should  be  helped. 

Miss  Allen  gave  us  a  most  thrilling  account  of  the  murder 
of  Rasputin,  as  told  to  her  by  an  eye  witness.  It  all  sounds 
like  the  wildest  dime  novel.  Miss  Warner  has  charge  of  a  large 
French  military  hospital.  She  has  been  bombarded  several 
times  and  been  obliged  to  flee  with  her  patients,  one  of  her 
nurses  lost  her  hand  during  one  of  the  bombardments.  Miss 
Warner  says  that  nothing  is  so  important  to  the  poilu  as  his 
drawers,  he  is  willing  to  go  without  any  other  article  of  cloth- 
ing, but  is  utterly  miserable  without  drawers. 

Sunday  I  dined  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Lucas  to  celebrate  his 
birthday.  Dr.  Cabot  was  of  the  party,  we  had  such  an  interest- 
ing evening.  Dr.  Cabot  has  a  splendid  dispensary  in  Paris;  he 
has  so  many  patients  that  he  can't  handle  them  all. 


Toul,  February  2,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

As  usual  I  don't  know  where  to  begin,  I  have  so  much  to 
write  to  you  about,  but  think  I  will  answer  your  letter  first. 

While  I  write  a  Frenchman  is  playing,  very  slowly,  "The 
Star  Spangled  Banner"  on  the  piano.  My  heart  is  in  my 
mouth  today  as  I  hear  that  our  men,  Dick's  regiment,  is  to 
make  its  first  offensive  within  the  next  few  days,  the  possibili- 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      63 

ties  are  too  dreadful  to  think  of.  But  I  must  put  aside  fear  and 
think  of  other  things. 

This  idea  that  the  French  people  will  only  accept  black 
aprons  for  their  children  is  all  nonsense.  We  have  five  hundred 
children  here,  all  happy  without  them,  and  the  fifty  mothers 
seem  perfectly  satisfied. 

I  hope  that  fine  box  you  sent  reaches  us,  but  it  really  mat- 
ters little  so  the  children  get  them,  as  they  surely  will. 

Now  I  must  tell  you  the  story  of  my  past  week.  To  begin 
with  Monday.  I  heard  that  General  Wood  had  been  severely 
wounded.  I  located  the  hospital  he  had  been  taken  to  and 
called  on  him  in  the  afternoon,  found  him  up  and  smiling  with 
his  arm  in  a  sling.  Seventy-five  Frenchmen  had  been  killed 
right  beside  him  by  an  exploding  shell.  I  had  a  nice  quiet  visit 
and  sent  a  reassuring  note  to  Louise  by  a  friend  who  was  sail- 
ing for  home  the  next  day.  I  tried  to  get  off  to  Toul  Tuesday 
morning  but  the  work  piled  up  so  I  couldn't  get  away. 

I  have  sent  for  seventy-five  nurses  more.  We  expect  in  the 
immediate  future  to  have  hospital  dispensaries  at  Havre,  Lyons, 
near  Nancy,  at  Togue,  a  munition  town,  at  St.  Etienne,  a  big 
munition  center,  and  to  take  care  of  ten  thousand  refugees  from 
Nancy  who  are  to  be  evacuated  in  the  immediate  future.  One 
hospital  here  doubles  its  capacity  next  week.  I  have  great 
difficulty  in  providing  nurses,  they  come  so  slowly  from 
America. 

A  pathetic  little  family  of  five,  mother  and  four  children, 
arrived  here  today  from  Pompey,  their  house  had  been  de- 
stroyed by  a  bomb.  The  nurses  are  distributing  layettes  and 
clothing  from  the  dispensaries  which  we  maintain  in  this  region. 
We  have  ten  now;  I  visited  some  of  them  yesterday. 

The  night  before  I  left  Paris  we  had  a  visit  from  the  Boche, 
sixty  planes.  It  was  very  thrilling.  I  stood  on  the  balcony 
and  watched  it,  but  I  never  will  do  such  a  foolish  thing  again 
as  I  have  since  learned  that  many  were  killed.  A  plane  came 
down  quite  close  to  us.  We  could  see  the  manoeuvering  in  the 
air.  The  planes  all  carry  lights,  then  to  hear  and  see  the  burst- 
ing bombs,  the  sound  of  canonading  and  the  sky  lighted  with 
the  fires  started  by  the  bursting  bombs,  none  of  it  seemed  real 
to  me.  When  I  first  heard  the  siren  I  hopped  out  of  bed  into 
your  nice  warm  wrapper  and  stood  on  the  balcony  unitl  I 


64      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

couldn't  resist  the  temptation  to  see  what  was  going  on  in  the 
streets,  so  many  people  were  running  about  below  me.  The 
Place  de  la  Concorde  presented  a  weird  scene.  A  low  sort  of 
land  fog  made  everything  indistinct,  but  the  sky  was  very  blue 
and  clear,  the  moon  full,  and  the  air  filled  with  planes  darting 
about  in  every  direction,  it  certainly  was  exciting. 

I  left  at  6:30  the  next  morning  for  Toul.  Found  things  |in 
somewhat  of  a  mess  here,  a  new  head  nurse  having  a  little 
difficulty  in  maintaining  discipline,  but  with  my  backing  all  is 
serene  again.  We  really  have  had  very  little  trouble  all  things 
considered  and  the  children  get  the  best  of  care.  I  have  never 
seen  a  more  conscientious  group  and  the  aids  are  fine. 

Mr.  Raeder,  an  orphan  asylum  expert  from  New  York,  is 
here.  Dr.  Ladd  says  that  he  was  simply  dumbfounded  when  he 
arrived  to  see  the  condition  of  things,  five  hundred  children 
huddled  together  in  soldiers'  barracks,  nothing  according  to 
Hoyle.  After  he  got  his  second  wind,  he  went  to  work  and  has 
been  able  to  bring  about  a  good  many  reforms,  although  the 
French  mothers  and  matrons  of  the  buildings  resist  him  at 
every  step.  I  am  so  glad  I  have  seen  him,  because  he  was  so 
discouraged — felt  that  no  one  understood  his  aims.  I  told  him 
that  he  was  not  establishing  something  permanent,  just  a  tempo- 
rary shelter.  We  may  be  shelled  out  any  minute.  It  has  been  a 
surprise  to  me  to  find  that  these  people  are  just  like  the  Neo- 
politans  as  far  as  dirt  is  concerned.  Of  course  the  excuse  is 
that  they  have  no  running  water  in  the  houses,  but  they  could 
have  had  it  ages  ago  if  they  had  considered  it  of  any  import- 
ance. 


Paris,  February  9,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Visited  Mrs.  Ladd's  studio  where  she  makes  masks  to  cover 
deformed,  mutilated  faces  which  are  beyond  the  help  of  surgery. 
I  saw  a  poor  poilu  whose  entire  nose  and  part  of  upper  jaw 
was  gone,  his  tongue  could  be  plainly  seen  moving  in  his  mouth. 
The  transformation  made  by  his  mask  was  marvelous.  He 
stood  before  us  smoking  a  cigarette,  lips  parted  slightly;  the 
flesh  tints  of  the  mask  so  perfect  that  you  expected  his  expres- 
sion to  change.  Mrs.  Ladd  is  a  very  clever  sculptor.  She 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      65 

makes  plastic  masks  first  from  the  original  and  then  builds 
them  up.  This  man  was  a  good  subject,  as  both  his  eyes  were 
unharmed.  The  mask  was  held  in  place  by  attachments  over 
the  ears.  It  is  made  of  very  fine  light  copper  and  painted  flesh 
colors,  a  stubble  of  hair  on  each  of  the  side  cheeks  helped  the 
deception,  with  a  real  mustache.  When  worn  with  large  specta- 
cles the  mask  is  wonderfully  life  like.  I  am  wondering  how  this 
delicate  painting  will  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  use,  weather, 
etc.  The  idea  is  to  provide  the  poor  fellows  with  something 
which  will  enable  them  to  go  about  their  work  without  being 
absolutely  repulsive  to  their  fellow  beings. 


Le  Glandier,  Le  Pompadour,  February  12,  1918. 

The  refuge  home  for  680  Belgian  children  who  have  been 
taken  from  their  parents  is  an  old  monastery  of  the  Chartreuse 
monks.    It  was  taken  from  them  twelve  years  ago  and  sold  to  a 
land  syndicate.     The  place  has  been  partly  destroyed,  all  the 
handsome  woodwork  torn  out  of  the  chapel  which  is  ruined, 
many  of  the  cloisters  blasted  out  in  an  effort  to  give  the  place 
a  more  secular  air.    There  were  many  ruins  to  be  cleared  away 
before  the  place  was  at  all  habitable  for  the  poor  little  Belgian 
refugees.     I  saw  the  place  at  its  best,  on  a  bright  sunny  day 
with  the  children  actively  at  play  under  the  leadership  of  two 
Quaker  boys  from  Philadelphia.    The  children  alternate  in  the 
school,  one-half  in  the  morning  and  one-half  in  the  afternoon, 
so  the  boys  are  kept  busy  all  day  long  teaching  their  American 
games;  football  and  baseball  are  the  favorites.     It  is  pathetic 
to  see  the  boys'  efforts  in  sabots  and  aprons  to  run  and  play 
freely.    I  talked  with  the  manager,  Capt.  Gros,  about  overalls; 
he  was  charmed  with  the  idea.    I  promised  to  send  him  some 
samples.    The  Belgians  seem  more  progressive  than  the  French, 
they  take  to  new  ideas  more  easily.    The  sabots  are  very  hard 
on  the  feet,  rows  of  children  were  waiting  in  the  dispensary  hav- 
ing their   feet  dressed,  they  had  ugly  looking  raw  places  on 
them,  the  result  of  rough  sabots  and  some  had  bad  looking 
places  from  frozen  feet,  the  sabots  are  so  cold.    Apart  from  the 
aprons,  caps  and  sabots,  I  can  see  no  difference  in  their  dress. 
Capt.  Gros  and  the  Belgian  doctor  in  charge  could  not  speak 


66      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

highly  enough  of  Miss  Boyle,  our  head  nurse.  She  and  her 
assistant  worked  night  and  day  for  two  months;  in  December 
they  had  a  number  of  pneumonia  cases;  her  devotion  was  so 
great  that  it  won  the  admiration  of  all.  They  are  to  receive 
the  Elizabeth  Cross  from  the  Queen,  who  visits  them  next 
month,  they  surely  deserve  it,  for  a  week  neither  nurse  took  off 
her  clothes.  We  had  no  idea  in  Paris  what  a  hard  time  they 
were  having,  as  Miss  Boyle  didn't  like  to  complain.  Capt.  Gros 
has  asked  her  to  supervise  the  baths  and  the  dormitories.  I 
think  all  will  go  better  now  that  the  cold  weather  is  over. 


Fontainbleau,  February  17,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Miss  Byrne  and  I  came  here  last  night  to  spend  Sunday  with 
three  nice  boys  who  are  having  a  leave,  they  are  not  allowed 
to  go  to  Paris  so  came  to  the  nearest  point.  The  young  people 
are  riding  this  morning  and  I  have  just  made  the  tour  of  the 
chateau,  it  is  sad  to  see  it  like  everything  over  here  being  de- 
nuded of  its  splendor,  all  the  tapestries  and  other  valuables 
being  cached  for  fear  of  the  Boche.  It  is  all  so  peaceful  and 
beautiful  here  that  war  is  hard  to  imagine,  of  course  the  boys 
talk  of  nothing  else.  They  are  instructors  in  the  artillery 
school.  Speaking  of  the  fortunes  of  war,  one  of  them  said  that 
when  he  arrived  at  the  school  it  was  dark;  he  was  met  by  a 
private  who  deferentially  took  his  bag  and  escorted  him  to  the 
hotel.  When  they  could  see  each  other  the  private  turned  out 
to  be  one  of  his  classmates  at  Yale;  they  both  had  a  good 
laugh. 

After  having  three  weeks  of  quite  warm  weather  it  has 
turned  bitterly  cold  suddenly.  I  am  so  sorry  for  the  men  in  the 
trenches  and  the  little  children,  seeing  all  those  frozen  feet  at 
La  Glandier  made  me  realize  how  they  suffer.  It  is  simply  im- 
possible to  heat  these  barracks  in  which  they  are  housed,  as 
difficult  as  to  make  our  gymnasium  warm. 

We  are  staying  at  the  hotel  France  et  Angleterre.  I  am 
wondering  if  you  have  ever  been  here,  I  always  wonder  that 
wherever  I  go.  It  is  an  interesting  quaint  old  place,  the  walls 
quite  covered  by  old  engravings.  I  go  to  Evian  again  this 
week. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      67 


Paris,  February  24,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Captain  Farragut  Hall  is  in  the  infantry.  We  had  a  fine 
lunch  and  talk  together  the  other  day.  He  gave  me  such  a  nice 
account  of  the  relations  of  his  men  with  the  village  people.  He 
says  they  tarry  the  heavy  loads  of  washing  home  for  the 
women  after  they  have  knelt  side  by  side  at  the  stream  wash- 
ing their  clothes,  it  is  quite  a  sight.  They  chop  wood,  play 
with  the  children,  and  make  themselves  generally  useful.  Far- 
ragut's  regiment  was  temporarily  taken  from  this  village,  and 
upon  their  return  they  had  a  royal  welcome.  The  men  are 
really  in  fine  condition,  the  morale  splendid;  this  I  hear  from 
all  sides.  They  get  on  better  with  the  Australians  than  with 
any  of  the  other  Allies. 


Paris,  March  2,  1918. 
To  L.  McL. 

I  am  very  much  interested  in  the  refugees  from  Nancy.  We 
have  the  medical  supervision  of  them.  One  colony  of  1,000 
children. 

I  have  been  hearing  tales  of  German  brutality  that  makes 
my  blood  boil.  They  refused  to  heat  the  cars  filled  with 
refugees  from  Northern  France,  who  were  en  route  through 
Belgium  sometimes  for  four  or  five  days.  Many  arrived  at 
Evian  frozen!  For  a  long  time  no  toilet  facilities  were  pro- 
vided on  the  trains.  The  conditions  when  they  arrived  in 
Switzerland  were  so  terrible  that  the  Swiss  Government  pro- 
tested and  finally  one  toilet  was  installed  in  each  train. 

We  hear  many  stories  of  the  terrible  treatment  our  prisoners 
receive,  but  I  discredit  those  tales  of  horror.  You  never  can 
trace  them;  it  is  always  some  one  else  who  has  seen  it.  I 
know  that  our  troops  are  in  good  shape — the  morale  fine. 

Mrs.  H.  has  had  her  eyes  opened  especially  to  the  moral 
conditions  and  is  surprised  to  find  things  going  so  well;  with 
exception  of  five  men  at  Bordeaux  on  Xmas  day  she  has  not 
seen  a  drunken  army  man.  A  French  general  told  a  friend  of 
mine  that  he  was  delighted  with  the  quickness  of  the  Ameri- 
can, they  learned  so  rapidly. 


68      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Paris,  March  3rd,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

The  children's  work  is  really  helping  the  whole  war  situa- 
tion tremendously.  We  have  over  and  over  again  expressions 
of  gratitude  and  confidence  from  the  Poilu  of  the  care  we  are 
giving  his  children.  When  the  children  were  sent  out  of  Nancy 
the  parents  begged  that  they  be  given  to  the  Americans  to  care 
for  and  our  doctors  and  nurses  left  Nancy  with  the  thousands 
of  children  that  were  sent  to  safety.  All  of  this  counts  tre- 
mendously in  the  winning  of  the  war,  and  I  suppose  I  must  be 
content  with  my  part  in  it  but  I  do  long  to  directly  help  our 
men. 


Paris,  March  5,  1918. 
To  Willing  Circle. 

This  is  designed  to  be  an  Easter  greeting  but  you  probably 
won't  receive  it  before  May  Day.  In  this  very  uncertain  life 
we  lead,  the  mail  is  one  of  the  most  uncertain  things  of  all. 
Although  it  is  surprising  how  little  is  really  finally  lost.  I  have 
so  far  received  every  package  which  has  been  sent  me,  which  I 
think  is  quite  surprising. 

Just  at  present  all  my  thoughts  are  with  our  men  on  the  fir- 
ing line.  They  are  behaving  so  splendidly  and  we  are  so  proud 
of  them.  From  all  sides  I  hear  praise  and  appreciation  of  the 
work  they  are  doing.  The  French  officers  are  delighted  with 
their  eagerness  to  grasp  all  that  is  taught  them. 

I  visited  one  of  our  hospitals  last  week  at  Dijon;  it  is  an 
old  Jesuit  school  and  was  the  dirtiest  place  imaginable,  but  has 
been  made  fresh  and  clean  by  much  scrubbing  and  new  paint 
applied  by  German  prisoners,  who  looked  disgustingly  fat,  well 
and  complacent  compared  to  our  men  stretched  out  ill  in  their 
beds  in  a  foreign  land,  all  because  of  German  vileness.  There 
were  five  hundred  and  eighty  men  in  the  hospital,  no  wounded. 
I  did  not  see  any  of  our  pyjamas.  The  men  sit  about  conva- 
lescing in  very  forlorn  looking  citizen  clothes.  One  hundred 
and  eighty-five  of  these  men  had  mumps.  I  have  not  seen  any 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      69 

men  in  France  parading  the  streets  in  those  pyjamas,  they  may 
do  so  in  summer,  but  I  doubt  it. 

Miss  Warner,  a  nurse  who  has  been  in  charge  of  a  French 
hospital  here  since  the  beginning  of  the  war,  tells  me  that  next 
to  his  children,  the  dearest  things  to  a  Poilu's  heart  are  his 
drawers,  his  wife  doesn't  seem  to  count  at  all.  He  is  perfectly 
miserable  if  he  has  to  leave  the  hospital  without  drawers. 

I  hope  you  have  seen  the  wonderful  letter  of  thanks  written 
by  the  man  with  wooden  fingers,  it  is  truly  remarkable.  He 
earns  his  living  clerking  at  the  Bon  Marche. 

Have  I  written  you  about  the  marvelous  masks  which  Mrs. 
Ladd,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Ladd  in  charge  at  Toul,  makes  for  the 
mutiles?  It  is  almost  like  a  miracle.  The  mask  is  of  very  fine 
copper  and  painted  the  exact  flesh  tints  of  the  wearer.  Worn 
with  a  mustache  and  spectacles,  it  is  most  life  like.  It  is  worn 
while  the  man  is  at  work. 

I  have  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  Evian  where  I  saw 
several  trains  arrive  loaded  with  people  from  Northern  France. 
The  border  is  to  be  closed  for  several  weeks  now.  It  is  always 
closed  when  the  military  operations  become  very  active.  I  think 
many  spies  must  get  through  among  the  rapatri6s.  It  was,  of 
course,  a  tragic  sight,  one  can't  get  hardened  to  the  sorrow  and 
frightfulness  of  all  that  it  means.  As  the  train  pulls  up  in 
France  the  buglers  play  patriotic  strains,  the  windows  are 
crowded  with  shouting  and  weeping  people,  Vive  la  France! 
fills  the  air,  Swiss  flags  are  waved  from  the  windows.  The 
Swiss  never  fail  to  provide  flags  and  toys  for  the  children  who 
get  out  of  the  train  hopelessly  dirty  and  grimy,  but  generally 
with  dolls  clasped  in  their  arms.  Our  ambulance  men  are  at 
hand  to  tenderly  lift  the  sick  and  feeble  to  the  ground  into 
wheeled  chairs  or  directly  to  the  ambulance.  The  crowd  is 
composed  almost  entirely  of  decrepit  old  people  and  little  chil- 
dren, the  majority  under  eight.  Mothers  are  only  sent  when 
they  are  ill  or  have  infants  in  their  arms,  and  what  to  me  is 
the  most  tragic  sight  of  all  is  to  see  a  woman  step  off  that 
train  clasping  in  her  arms  a  Boche  baby,  which  of  course  they 
all  are.  If  the  woman  is  married  she  leaves  this  poor  little  babe 
at  Evian  as  she  cannot  face  the  husband  with  it  in  her  arms, 
but  the  unmarried  girls  usually  keep  theirs.  Five  of  these  poor 
little  abandoned  creatures  were  brought  to  our  little  orphan 


70      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

refuge  the  night  I  was  there.  It  was  an  inexpressably  sad  sight 
to  see  them  waiting  in  the  hall  to  be  admitted. 

But  to  write  of  something  more  cheerful,  it  is  really  a  joy 
to  see  all  these  people  march  down  the  long  avenue  overlook- 
ing the  Lake  Geneva,  their  faces  radiant,  shouting  now  and 
then  "Vive  la  France!"  They  are  always  delighted  at  the  sight 
of  Americans.  One  dear  old  woman  with  such  a  lovely  face 
kept  clasping  my  hand  as  I  walked  beside  her  to  carry  her 
heavy  bundle  (they  all  come  through  laden),  saying,  "Ameri- 
cans, our  compatriots."  The  feeling  of  confidence  that  these 
poor  people  have  that  we  have  come  to  save  them  is  really  too 
touching  for  words,  it  makes  one  feel  that  no  sacrifice  is 
too  great  to  justify  their  faith  in  us;  and  as  I  look  about  me 
and  see  all  the  earnest  men  and  women  who  are  over  here  and 
think  of  the  work  and  unselfish  devotion  that  is  shown  at  home, 
I  have  a  sense  of  security  and  a  deep  feeling  that  right  will 
prevail  in  the  world.  All  the  powers  of  darkness  can  not  over- 
come the  light  which  is  being  shed  now.  People  are  making 
great  sacrifices  without  even  giving  a  thought  to  it,  it  seems 
so  natural  to  put  aside  material  things  now  when  the  call  of  the 
spirit  bids  us  put  forth  our  best  efforts  to  overcome  evil. 

There  are  four  men  here  in  the  Red  Cross  who  compose  an 
entire  law  firm  from  New  York,  Byrne,  Cutchen  and  Taylor, 
they  have  practically  abandoned  a  prosperous  business  at  their 
country's  call. 

The  activity  near  Toul  gives  us  a  good  deal  of  anxiety  for 
our  five  hundred  children,  the  place  is  about  a  mile  from  the 
town  of  Toul.  We  have  just  opened  a  maternity  hospital  there 
to  receive  refugees  from  Nancy.  A  bomb  exploded  in  one  of 
the  maternity  wards  in  Nancy  the  other  day  so  the  patients 
have  all  been  removed  to  Toul.  Our  doctors  and  nurses  are 
still  working  in  Nancy  but  it  is  getting  pretty  hot  there,  all  of 
the  helpless  women  and  children  have  been  sent  out. 

I  have  been  getting  off  nurses  and  aides  all  week  to  the 
various  points  where  the  population  of  Nancy  have  been  sent  in 
large  groups.  For  instance  at  Dinard  there  are  one  thousand 
children.  As  soon  as  large  numbers  are  gathered  together  con- 
tageous  diseases  break  out.  We  always  have  at  least  half  a 
dozen  nurses  and  aides  ill  with  contageous  diseases.  It  is  most 
trying  when  they  are  so  scarce.  I  am  in  terror  now  for  fear 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      71 

an  emergency  will  arise  in  the  next  few  days  before  another 
steamer  comes,  as  I  haven't  one  nurse  or  aide  to  send. 

We  are  just  beginning  a  most  interesting  piece  of  work  in 
Paris.  You  have  probably  read  about  it  before  now  in  the 
papers.  It  is  the  distribution  of  food  to  the  school  children. 
Our  doctors  came  to  the  conclusion  that  as  nine-tenths  of  the 
illness  they  saw  was  the  result  of  malnutrition,  it  was  useless 
to  have  clinics  if  the  children  could  not  be  fed,  so  they  have 
given  a  supplementary  meal  in  all  the  schools  where  the  chil- 
dren are  poor.  It  consists  of  a  Red  Cross  bun  made  of  flour, 
milk,  sugar  and  chopped  fruits,  figs  and  dates.  This  is  given 
with  a  piece  of  chocolate  every  afternoon  at  4  p.  m.  We  saw 
the  first  distribution  which  was  made  a  great  occasion  by  the 
schoolmaster.  The  children  sang  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner" 
in  English  better  than  our  children  can  sing  it,  they  decorated 
the  school  with  little  American  flags  which  they  made  and 
generally  showed  their  appreciation.  This  food  distribution 
serves  two  ends,  it  is  a  simple  telling  demonstration  to  the  poor 
people  that  America  is  behind  them,  and  will  do  much  to  keep 
up  their  courage  in  the  trying  months  to  come. 


Paris,  March  7,  1918. 
To  Willing  Circle. 

Last  night  I  wrote  you  a  long  letter  only  to  wake  this  a.  m. 
with  a  feeling  that  I  had  not  finished  all  that  I  would  say  to  you 
as  I  know  how  difficult  it  is  these  days  to  catch  up  with  the 
march  of  events  if  we  let  weeks  slip  by  without  record.  As  this 
is  the  only  diary  I  keep,  I  hate  to  let  the  days  slip  without  not- 
ing the  facts  of  interest  to  me. 

Did  I  write  you  about  the  enthusiasm  with  which  my  overall 
suggestion  was  met  by  Captain  Gros  who  is  in  charge  of  the 
Belgian  children?  He  is  impatient  to  see  all  his  boys  in  "Can't 
bust  'ems."  He  bemoans  the  fact  that  he  has  just  ordered 
aprons,  but  I  told  him  the  girls  could  use  them.  But  sad  to 
relate  the  sample  overalls  which  Alice  sent  me  months  ago  have 
not  yet  arrived.  I  had  some  difficulty  in  my  bad  French  ex- 
plaining the  overall  idea,  but  finally  succeeded  so  well  that  Cap- 
tain Gros  drew  a  very  good  picture  of  a  pair. 


72      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

The  Americans  seem  to  absorb  like  sponges.  They  will 
return  with  many  different  views  of  life,  some  of  them  bad  and 
some  good,  but  never  will  they  or  the  nation  be  the  same  after 
this  great  experience.  I  can  see  people's  whole  point  of  view 
change  before  my  very  eyes,  it  is  really  very  curious  and  this 
same  mental  process  is  taking  place  in  millions  of  American 
minds  and  hearts  at  this  very  moment. 

I  am  very  hopeful  on  one  point,  I  feel  sure  that  those  who 
have,  through  this  world  tragedy,  learned  the  joy  of  personal 
service,  will  never  be  content  again  to  let  the  suffering  world 
go  by  without  extending  the  hand  of  brotherly  love.  We  won't 
find  it  so  difficult  in  the  future  to  supply  our  starving  babes 
with  milk,  or  to  find  homes  for  the  families  full  of  light  and 
sunshine,  places  fit  for  human  beings  to  live  and  bring  up  our 
future  citizens  in. 

I  have  seen  nothing  over  here,  except  in  the  bombarded, 
destroyed  towns,  worse  than  we  have  at  this  very  minute  on 
Telegraph  Hill.  But  I  am  sure  that  is  not  what  you  want  to 
hear,  but  at  times  I  do  look  forward  with  hope  to  what  we 
might  accomplish  when  all  this  awakened  interest  and  realiza- 
tion of  the  life  that  is  outside  our  own  narrow  walls  will  be 
expended  on  sweeping  and  garnishing  of  our  own  cities,  making 
them  physically  and  morally  fit  for  the  coming  race  to  grow 
and  develop  in. 

Dr.  Lucas  expects  to  return  in  May  to  take  part  in  various 
child  welfare  conferences.  He  has  launched  a  big  Infant  Mor- 
tality campaign  here.  The  plan  is  that  after  a  series  of  demon- 
strated lectures  are  given  in  a  town,  generally  in  the  opera 
house,  a  group  of  trained  social  service  visitors  headed  by  a 
nurse,  goes  to  the  town  and  organizes  baby  clinics,  home  visit- 
ing, etc.  The  plan  is  to  stay  in  each  place  about  two  months, 
during  which  time  they  hope  to  rouse  such  enthusiasm  and 
plant  such  seeds  as  will  develop  into  flourishing  trees  of  infant 
life. 

The  difficulty  of  accomplishing  such  a  scheme  as  this  during 
war  time  is  almost  overwhelming,  but  Dr.  Lucas  is  very 
enthusiastic  and  optimistic  about  it  and  really  inspires  people 
to  do  the  impossible.  So  few  nurses  have  the  training  and 
initiative  to  undertake  such  a  big  piece  of  work  that  I  am  in 
despair  at  times  in  supplying  the  demand. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      73 

This  plan  only  covers  the  small  centers,  we  have  permanent 
educational  exhibits  and  teaching  centers  in  the  big  cities;  here 
in  Paris  we  have  now  six  dispensaries  where  French  women  are 
being  taught  public  health  visiting  and  home  care  of  the  sick. 
In  fact  we  are  doing  much  more  here  than  we  have  ever 
dreamed  of  undertaking  at  home.  We  are  hopeful  of  teaching 
something  here  as  the  French  are  thoroughly  frightened  over 
the  low  birth  and  high  death  rate. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  of  a  little  incident  I  witnessed  at  the 
base  hospital  the  other  day  at  Dijon.  A  group  of  men  who 
were  discharged  and  just  about  to  leave,  held  in  their  hands 
bright  comfort  bags  which  they  had  received  at  Christmas.  I 
spoke  to  them  about  them  and  they  told  me  that  they  treasured 
them  above  everything.  The  nurses  say  they  never  let  them 
out  of  their  sight.  It  was  so  touching  to  see  those  big  men 
holding  those  foolish  looking  little  bags  full  of  their  treasures. 
I  used  to  wonder  at  Christmas  time  when  I  stood  for  hours  in 
the  evening  on  a  stone  floor,  cold  up  to  my  waist,  whether  I 
wasn't  wasting  time  and  strength,  but  I  am  sure  now  it  was 
worth  it. 

We  filled  200,000  bags  and  I  assure  you  it  was  a  big  task. 
Not  many  of  those  filled  at  home  got  here  in  time  for  Christ- 
mas, but  they  will  do  for  another  time.  When  I  distributed  the 
bags,  Alice  commissioned  me  to  fill  for  her,  I  saw  a  Poilu 
standing  in  a  corner  counting  the  sheets  of  paper. 

We  may  have  to  withdraw  some  of  our  nurses  from  the 
front.  At  Nesle  the  whole  hospital  force,  nurses,  patients  and 
doctors,  have  to  frequently  retire  to  the  cellar  for  the  night 
when  the  bombardment  becomes  too  severe.  One  of  our  nurses 
at  Nesle  is  to  be  decorated.  A  train  upon  which  one  of  our 
nurses  was  traveling  to  Toul,  not  long  since,  was  struck  by  a 
shell,  but  fortunately  no  deaths.  The  situation  becomes  more 
tense  every  day. 

A  hotel  for  nurses  has  just  been  opened  in  Paris.  We  have 
found  such  difficulty  in  finding  suitable  accommodations.  I 
don't  expect  to  live  there  as  I  am  very  comfortably  located. 
None  of  the  clothes  have  come  which  people  write  have  been 
sent  to  me  direct,  except  four  flannelette  nightgowns  without 
name  of  sender. 

I   can't  understand  why  it  is   so  difficult   to   find   suitable 


74      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

aides  for  me.  A  cable  comes  saying  that  only  7  have  been 
found  out  of  25  I  cabled  for  two  months  ago.  It  may  be 
the  fact  that  we  require  them  to  speak  French  is  insurmount- 
able or  is  it  that  their  patriotism  doesn't  extend  to  the  care 
of  babies? 

Margaret  Robins  is  eager  to  come  over,  but  is  under  age. 
I  have  cabled  specially  for  her.  Twenty-five  to  forty  are  the 
age  limits.  General  Wood  thinks  we  will  need  50,000  nures; 
the  thought  is  overwhelming. 


Paris,  March  20,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

On  Friday  the  big  explosion  took  place  at  Laconouvre.  I 
was  in  the  Bon  Marche  at  the  time  with  the  Countess  Bremand 
d'Ars,  the  lovely  Frenchwoman  I  have  written  you  about,  who 
translates  for  us.  She  is  fascinating,  typically  French.  Her 
husband  and  only  son  have  been  killed,  her  one  remaining 
child,  a  daughter,  is  at  the  school  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
founded  by  Napoleon  at  St.  Denis  for  officers'  daughters.  The 
Countess  and  I  were,  as  I  said,  at  the  Bon  Marche,  when  we 
heard  a  terrific  explosion  accompanied  by  the  falling  of  glass 
and  great  clouds  of  dust.  One's  first  thought  was  the  Boche. 
The  Countess  made  a  wild  dive  to  the  street  which  took  her 
under  the  huge  glass  rotunda.  I  had  a  hard  time  controlling 
her,  we  finally  got  out  into  the  street  to  seek  a  "cave."  Madame 
had  an  idea  that  it  was  an  attack  upon  the  Ministry  of  War 
where  her  brother  is,  he  is  the  Minister  of  Aviation.  We  in- 
quired of  a  man  on  the  street  who  assured  us  it  was  not  a  raid, 
but  an  explosion  at  St.  Denis.  You  can  imagine  the  poor 
woman's  feelings;  she  began  to  moan  and  cry,  "my  husband  is 
gone,  my  son  is  gone  and  now  my  daughter."  Fortunately  I 
found  a  taxi  near  by,  drove  her  to  the  Ministry  of  War,  where 
her  brother,  who  was  jumping  into  a  car,  called  back,  "no,  not 
St.  Denis,  Laconouvre."  Well,  my  heart  stopped,  for  we  had  a 
doctor,  nurse,  and  French  aide  working  there.  It  is  a  big 
munition  center,  the  people  all  living  in  little  huts  around  the 
factories,  four  villages  cluster  about  the  place. 

I  stopped  at  the  office,  picked  up  doctors  and  nurses  and 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      75 

first  aid  supplies,  two  cars  full,  and  went  to  the  rescue,  but 
you  will  have  to  read  the  rest  in  Miss  CrandalPs  letter. 

When  I  got  to  Lavonouvre,  the  center  of  the  disaster,  I 
found  500  homeless  people  whom  the  mayor  had  to  provide  for. 
He  said  that  he  had  a  good  building  to  put  them  in,  an  old  race 
track  with  stables,  casino,  etc.,  but  he  needed  food,  clothing  and 
bedding.  I  told  him  to  telephone  in  to  the  Red  Cross  immedi- 
ately, and  I  returned  to  Paris  in  hot  haste  as  it  was  nearly 
noon.  I  left  him  trying  to  telephone. 


Paris,  Palm  Sunday,  March  24,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  is  really  becoming  a  perfect  bore.  One  never  gets  set- 
tled but  that  "Alert"  sounds  and  we  are  routed  out  of  our  beds. 
Now  that  the  planes  come  at  night  and  we  are  bombarded  by 
day,  there  is  no  rest  for  the  weary.  I  get  so  sleepy  that  I  can 
not  keep  my  eyes  open  to  be  alarmed.  Sunday  night  I  was 
dining  at  another  hotel  when  the  "Alert"  sounded.  I  waited 
until  9:30  then  took  a  room  on  the  first  floor  and  went  to  bed. 
I  slept  until  morning.  Fortunately  I  came  home  at  dawn  be- 
cause I  could  not  get  any  breakfast.  At  eight  a,  m.  the  "Alert" 
sounded  again  and  guns  boomed  every  twenty  minutes  all  day. 
It  is  astonishing  that  a  gun  has  such  a  long  range. 

The  poor  have  the  hardest  time  through  all  this.  They  live 
in  rickety  old  houses,  with  poorly  constructed  cellars.  They 
hover  until  midnight  around  the  entrance  of  the  Metros  with 
their  children  clinging  to  them  and  with  little  bundles  in  their 
hands,  it  is  all  so  hideous  and  now  that  the  terrific  battle  has 
begun  and  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  men  are  going 
to  their  deaths  to  save  us  from  destruction,  I  long  to  be  nearer 
them. 

Whenever  I  think  of  that  battle  line,  I  see  dear  old  Dick 
facing  the  enemy  with  his  fearless  blue  eyes.  He  seems  typical 
to  me  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  interpreting  the  "Golden  Boy"  that 
one  of  these  poets  writes  about. 

Loyall  Sewall  is  here  in  Paris,  thank  God,  he  is  so  dear  and 
fine. 


76      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Dr.  Blake's  hospital  is  filled  with  our  gassed  men;  their  eyes 
being  badly  injured.  It  is  unbearable. 

I  want  to  answer  your  fine  letters  but  my  heart  is  so  in 
those  trenches  I  can  think  of  nothing  else.  I  know  you  will 
understand. 

The  guns  are  turned  on  Paris  again  this  morning.  Loyall  is 
coming  to  go  to  church  with  me.  I  do  not  know,  now,  if  there 
will  be  a  service.  It  is  Palm  Sunday.  The  Boche  have  promised 
to  spend  Easter  in  Paris. 


Paris,  8,00  p.  m.,  March  25,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

I  know  your  thoughts  are  with  me  and  the  bleeding  world 
in  which  we  live.  The  sound  of  the  big  guns  booming  by  day 
and  the  bombs  being  dropped  at  night,  have  made  us  all  realize 
very  fully  the  gigantic  battle  that  is  going  on  at  the  front,  and 
the  thousands  giving  their  lives  in  our  defense. 

Last  night  we  were  routed  out  of  bed  at  1.00  a.  m.  by  the 
"Alert"  and  after  a  few  hours  rest  it  sounded  again  this  morn- 
ing, but  as  we  read  this  morning  of  the  fearful  carnage  at  the 
front,  how  trifling  our  small  discomforts  seen.  Tonight  we 
have  better  news,  that  the  English  are  gaining  ground  and  that 
the  big  guns  turned  on  Paris  have  been  silenced  by  two  aviators, 
who  gave  their  lives  to  silence  them. 

I  long,  now,  to  be  at  the  front.  My  work  here  seems  so 
little  worth  while.  Two  of  our  nurses  returned  from  Nesle 
today.  They  had  to  leave  without  their  clothes.  They  took 
the  children  from  the  hospital  to  a  place  of  safety. 

It  is  a  cloudy  night  so  we  should  have  a  quiet  sleep. 


Paris,  March  27,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Another  day  has  dawned  bright  and  clear.  It  looked  like 
rain  yesterday,  which  might  have  helped  to  arrest  the  enemy. 
It  is  hard  to  sleep  with  that  terrific  battle  raging  right  at  our 
doors. 

An  emergency  call  came  last  night  for  nurses.    Dr.  Lucas 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      77 

was  away  but  I  hope  he  returned  last  night  from  England.  I 
am  anxious  to  leave  for  the  front,  but  do  not  know  whether 
they  will  consent  to  it  or  not.  It  is  hard  to  decide  what  is  most 
helpful.  I  may  be  of  more  use  here. 

Just  what  part  our  men  are  taking,  I  do  not  know.  We  hear 
nothing  of  them. 

Everyone  here  is  very  calm,  no  nervous  excitement.  The 
restaurants  and  cafes  are  filled  as  usual. 


Paris,  4:30  a.  m.,  March  28,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Easter  approaches.  The  battle  rages.  The  forces  of  Satan 
seem  to  prevail  over  the  Prince  of  Peace,  seem  to  prevail  but 
will  not  prevail,  although  things  look  very  black.  Fleeing  people 
bring  news  of  conquering  forces,  sweeping  in  upon  us,  but  I 
have  absolute  faith  in  the  ultimate  result.  Everyone  is  calm 
and  unafraid. 

Yesterday  our  doctors  and  nurses  arrived  from  Amiens, 
where  they  had  retreated  from  Nesle,  which  has  been  taken  and 
lost  seven  times.  The  nurses  gave  thrilling  accounts  of  their 
experiences.  One  of  them  carried  an  eight  weeks'  old  baby  in 
her  arms  for  two  days. 

Dr.  Lucas  returned  from  London  tonight  to  my  great  relief. 
He  rushed  around  with  me  to  the  Military  Affairs  Bureau.  It 
was  decided  to  make  up  teams  of  doctors  and  nurses  and 
orderlies;  fill  camions  with  surgical  supplies,  go  on  the  road 
toward  the  front  and  give  first  aid  to  the  retreating  wounded. 
The  nurses  and  surgical  supplies'  end  of  it  was  turned  over 
to  me. 

The  nurses  have  responded  splendidly.  Everyone  is  eager 
for  the  privilege  of  going  to  the  front  and  those  who  have  re- 
turned are  most  eager  to  get  back.  It  is  a  grief  to  me  that  I 
must  stay  here,  but  I  am  sure  that  I  can  thus  help  more. 


78      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Paris,  Good  Friday,  March  29,  1918. 
To  A  .G. 

The  battle  continues  to  rage;  five  days  of  agony.  What  is 
the  result  to  be?  You  will  know  before  you  receive  this. 

The  absolutely  calm,  smiling  self-control  of  the  French  is 
heroic.  Their  confidence  in  their  army  is  perfect.  The  only 
comment  they  make  is  "The  Boche  will  never  pass  our  line." 
But  we  who  have  not  been  hardened  to  years  of  horror  are 
depressed.  I  assure  you  that  reading  of  it  in  San  Francisco 
and  seeing  it  enacted  before  your  eyes  are  different  matters, 
for  we  know  that  but  a  few  miles  from  us  the  dead  are  so  thick 
on  the  ground  that  the  troops  can  not  move  and  one  can  almost 
hear  the  moans  of  the  wounded.  Refugees  are  coming  into  Paris 
telling  sickening  tales  of  horror.  Our  own  workers,  who  stayed 
until  they  were  forcibly  removed  from  the  burning  towns  also 
bring  much  information.  Both  sides  arrested  the  oncoming 
troops  with  gas  and  liquid  fire.  The  aeroplanes  circled  low 
above  the  troops,  dropping  upon  them  the  tortures  of  hell.  How 
those  men  come  on  and  on  in  the  face  of  it  I  can  not  under- 
stand. 

An  official  announcement  last  night  says  that  the  Americans 
are  fighting  but  we  hear  no  news  of  them,  although  yesterday 
we  had  a  hurry  call  from  the  American  ambulance  for  nurses. 

The  English  army  has  been  crushed  by  mere  numbers.  They 
are  fighting  magnificiently. 

We  have  been  working  frantically  to  get  off  teams  to  the 
rear  of  the  army.  The  nurses  were  ready  in  a  half  hour  after 
the  call  came,  all  eager  to  go,  of  course.  Those  who  were  left 
were  heart  broken,  I  among  the  number,  but  I  know  I  can  help 
most  here. 

Mr.  Devine  has  met  this  emergency  well.  I  am  in  charge  of 
the  nursing  pro  tern.  I  send  a  French  speaking  aid  with  each 
team. 

They  are  having  a  dreadful  time  at  Chalons  where  my  friend, 
Miss  Pye,  the  Friend,  has  her  maternity  hospital.  We  have  a 
number  of  nurses  there  with  her.  I  worry  about  them  all  but 
so  far  no  one  has  been  hurt. 

We  made  the  rounds  of  the  railway  stations  last  night.  The 
sights  were  so  pitiful  Our  nurses  help  the  sick.  I  saw  a  five 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      79 

weeks'  old  baby  sucking  a  piece  of  chocolate.  The  excitement 
of  the  flight  from  a  burning  town  had  dried  up  the  mother's 
milk  and  the  milk  at  the  station  had  given  out. 

Our  Red  Cross  camions  drive  back  and  forth  from  the  store- 
house and  the  stations  all  day  long  supplying  the  needs.  All 
the  outgoing  soldiers  are  fed  and  the  incoming  refugees.  It  is 
all  wonderfully  well  arranged  and  organized.  All  of  the  people 
who  arrive  at  night  have  to  sleep  in  the  stations,  where  rows 
and  rows  of  matresses  are  put  down.  We  are  most  helpful  at 
night.  I  assign  about  six  nurses  and  aids  to  each  station  for 
the  night.  A  doctor  goes  with  each  group.  These  are  chiefly 
women  doctors,  as  the  men  have  gone  to  the  front  with  the 
teams. 

Paris,  March  31,  1918.    Easter  Day  at  dawn. 
To  A.  G. 

I  simply  can  not  sleep  through  these  dreadful  nights  for  the 
moon  has  been  so  bright  that  nightfall  does  not  bring  a  cessa- 
tion of  the  killing.  No  brief  time  comes  when  the  wounded 
may  be  brought  in  and  the  dead  cleared  from  the  field  for 
another  day's  carnage. 

Our  losses  in  Paris  seem  such  a  trifling  matter  compared 
with  the  thousands  who  are  falling  to  protect  us.  You  know, 
of  course,  that  eighty-five  people  were  killed  while  they  were 
at  a  church  on  Good  Friday.  France  is  being  crucified  now  but 
I  believe  that  her  resurrection  will  come  and  that  she  will  be 
purified  and  fairer  than  ever  before.  I  can  not  tell  you  how  I 
admire  the  spirit  of  these  heroic  people,  face  to  face  with  total 
annihilation  they  stand  perfectly  calm  and  serene  and  politely 
smiling  at  us  strangers,  who  they  never  permit  to  penetrate 
their  reserve.  It  is  a  self-restraint  that  makes  one  stand  and 
uncover  the  head  as  they  pass  through  this  fiery  ordeal. 

Yesterday,  I  slipped  out  of  the  office  for  a  few  minutes  to 
order  some  flowers  and  came  back  with  my  arms  full  as  delivery 
is  very  difficult  now.  As  I  walked  through  the  streets  laden 
with  flowers  and  heard  the  loud  report  of  the  canons  (from  the 
vibrations  we  can  get  a  pretty  good  idea  of  how  close  the  shell 
is  bursting),  I  thought  that  in  my  wildest  nightmare  I  had 
never  dreamed  that  I  would  be  calmly  walking  through  Paris 
streets,  gathering  flowers  as  it  were,  amidst  bursting  shells. 


80      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Dr.  Lucas  is  a  big  man,  nothing  small  about  him.  As  our 
bureau  had  many  more  nurses  and  doctors  in  it  than  any 
other,  Major  Burlingame  thought  it  best  for  us  to  have  charge 
of  the  Medical  Emergency. 

Monday. 

I  returned  to  the  office  after  church.  The  guns  boomed  all 
the  afternoon  and  the  effort  of  trying  to  bring  the  Easter 
spirit  into  this  mad  world  was  finally  over.  I  was  called  in  the 
night  to  the  Gare  de  Lyon  for  an  emergency;  fifty  sick  people 
had  unexpectedly  arrived. 


Paris,  April  2,  1918.    (Postmark.) 
To  A.  G. 

We  have  plenty  of  good  public  health  workers  but  what  we 
are  short  of  is  nurses  for  hospital  work.  There  are  thousands 
of  them  at  home  who  are  eager  to  come,  who  can  not  get  over. 
Why,  I  can  not  make  out.  I  am  short  150  workers. 

If  this  war  has  not  accomplished  anything  else,  I  think  it 
will  have  shaken  people  together  more  and  there  will  be  a  bet- 
ter spirit  of  brotherhood  in  the  world.  Men  who  have  been  side 
by  side  through  this  world  crisis  must  have  a  better  under- 
standing of  each  other.  The  relation  of  a  French  officer  and 
soldier  is  a  very  beautiful  one  to  me.  I  have  dined  at  the  home 
of  Monsieur  Mirman,  the  great  Prefect,  where  seated  at  the 
same  table  were  a  French  General  and  two  Poilus,  the  latter 
being  god  children  of  Mme.  Mirman  at  home  on  permission. 
The  General  and  the  Poilus  conversed  together  in  the  simplest 
and  most  natural  manner. 


Paris,  April  3,  1918. 
To  E.  S. 

There  are  few  quiet  moments  in  Paris  now.  Between  air 
raids  by  night  and  cannonading  by  day  we  have  a  very  lively 
time.  It  is  strange  how  quickly  one  gets  used  to  such  things. 
When  the  bombarding  first  began,  people  rushed  to  the  street 
and  curiously  looked  about  to  see  where  the  shell  had  burst, 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      81 

but  now,  although  we  know  that  each  report  of  that  gun  means 
death  and  destruction  to  innocent,  defenseless  people,  we 
hardly  raise  our  eyes  from  our  desks.  The  cruel  senselessness 
of  this  bombardment  of  Paris  has  so  infuriated  the  French 
people  that  it  seems  to  me  the  Boche  couldn't  have  selected  a 
means  more  calculated  to  stimulate  France  to  spill  her  last  drop 
of  blood  to  eject  the  barbarian  from  her  soil.  The  air  raids  on 
unfortified  cities  might  possibly  be  justified  from  a  military 
standpoint,  that  the  enemy  planes  are  thus  kept  at  home  for 
defense,  but  these  big  guns  can  do  nothing  but  kill  a  few  hun- 
dred women  and  children  every  day,  destroy  priceless  works  of 
art,  and  nothing  is  accomplished  by  them  of  military  advantage. 

I  am  simply  filled  with  admiration  for  the  French  people. 
I  am  on  my  very  knees  before  them.  I  have  never  dreamt  of 
such  sublime  courage  as  that  displayed  by  the  wives,  mothers 
and  sisters  of  these  heroic  men  who  are  dying  by  the  thousands 
to  keep  men  free.  It  stirs  one's  soul  to  the  very  depths. 

Last  week,  when  the  fleeing  multitudes  came  to  Paris  from 
their  burning  homes,  we  kept  nurses  and  aids  night  and  day  at 
the  railroad  stations,  which  I  assure  you  are  not  very  safe  places 
at  present,  as  they  are  the  objectives  of  the  air  raids.  Train 
loads  crowded  with  refugees  and  wounded  come  in  all  night.  I 
made  rounds  continually  myself  to  see  that  all  went  well  and 
then  I  blessed  the  thoughtful  friends  at  home  who  supplied  me 
with  money  to  use  in  individual  relief.  I  met  so  many  pitiful 
little  families  who  have  fled  leaving  their  all  behind  them.  Many 
arrive  carrying  nothing  but  their  pet  animals.  One  old  woman 
brought  her  goat,  which  she  said  behaved  better  on  the  train 
than  the  children,  another  hugged  a  rabbit,  dogs  and  cats  of 
course  were  plentiful  and  even  little  pigs  could  be  found,  tucked 
under  protecting  arms,  saved  from  the  Boche  stomach.  The 
calm  courage  of  all  these  women  was  marvelous,  not  a  com- 
plaint was  heard,  not  a  tear  shed.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  a 
madonna  like  mother  whom  I  found  standing  surrounded  by  her 
eight  children,  the  youngest  in  her  arms,  the  eldest  a  pretty 
girl  of  sixteen  years.  Her  serene  face  shone  with  pride  when 
I  admired  her  children.  This  is  the  second  time  she  has  been 
evacuated,  fled  for  her  life,  leaving  behind  all  her  household 
treasures.  She  told  me  her  tale  quietly  and  calmly  and  without 
a  complaint.  All  I  could  say  was  "Madame,  what  courage!" 


82      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Her  simple  answer  was  "Victory  is  sure."  I  felt  like  uncover- 
ing my  head  before  her. 

I  have  been  spending  a  good  deal  of  relief  money  enabling 
mothers  to  send  their  frightened  children  from  Prais.  It  is  so 
hard  for  the  poor  little  children.  One  little  boy  of  ten  said  to 
the  district  nurse:  "I  don't  fear,  but  it  is  hard  for  the  little 
ones."  One  of  the  nurses  who  was  in  church  on  Good  Friday 
when  the  shell  exploded,  saw  the  child  who  knelt  in  the  pew 
before  her  instantly  killed.  A  shock  like  that  is  never  forgotten. 

The  Red  Cross  is  establishing  colonies  for  these  children  in 
the  mountains,  fortunately  the  weather  has  been  very  mild. 
Valuable  work  was  also  done  last  week,  supplying  the  railway 
canteens  with  food,  clothing  and  medical  service.  Many  old 
people  entirely  collapse  at  the  end  of  their  flight. 

These  are  tragic  letters  I  write  you  but  this  is  a  tragic  time. 
Never  while  we  live  on  earth  will  the  horror  of  these  days  be 
forgotten.  It  certainly  is  a  time  when  every  man  and  women 
is  called  upon  to  put  forth  his  best  efforts.  The  little  children 
of  today  will  be  the  questioners  of  the  future.  They  will  de- 
mand of  mothers  and  fathers:  "What  did  you  do  to  help  in  the 
great  fight  for  liberty?" 

Won't  the  taking  of  Jerusalem  be  a  great  help  to  the  Jews 
in  founding  their  new  Zion?  It  was  the  first  thought  that  came 
to  my  mind.  It  would  be  wonderful  if  the  victory  gave  to  the 
Jews  their  own  again. 


Paris,  April  4,   1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  is  the  first  Sunday  since  I  have  been  in  France  that  I 
have  not  written  to  you  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  but  I 
wakened  with  a  discouraged  feeling,  probably  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  big  gun  boomed  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  which 
is  very  disturbing  to  sleep.  It  is  the  first  time  we  have  had  it 
at  night.  Although  I  am  not  personally  afraid,  one  can  not 
help  but  wonder  what  tragedy  has  followed  in  its  wake.  You 
have  heard  of  the  slaughter  of  the  innocents  in  the  maternity 
hospital  a  few  days  ago,  mothers  with  their  new-born  babes 
killed  or  wounded. 

The  children  are  being  sent  from  Paris  in  colonies  as  rapidly 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      83 

as  possible,  the  mothers  must  stay  at  their  work.  I  have  been 
contributing  money  to  mothers  for  some  of  them  to  pay  travel- 
ing expenses  for  the  children  who  have  relatives  or  friends  in 
the  south.  The  Bureau  of  Refugees  does  not  consider  Paris 
children  refugees.  Thank  goodness  and  my  friends  that  I  have 
a  fund  to  call  on. 

I  have  felt  so  unhappy  at  not  doing  some  army  nursing  that 
I  have  written  to  see  if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  serve  in  a 
hospital  during  my  vacation  which  will  be  in  June.  I  have 
offered  to  do  night  nursing,  since  I  do  not  feel  equal  to  doing 
those  horrible  dressings.  Dr.  Lucas  is  away,  but  I  am  sure  he 
will  consent  if  I  get  the  call.  Since  our  men  are  in  the  fight 
it  has  been  too  much  for  me;  not  that  I  am  not  willing  to  care 
for  any  of  the  men,  but  I  know  that  the  more  men  the  more 
need  of  nurses.  Two  weeks  ago  one  thousand  a  day  passed 
through  the  hands  of  one  of  our  units. 

Although  the  British  continue  to  lose  ground  a  little  every 
day,  now  that  Foch  is  in  command  confidence  has  been  restored. 

Your  day  at  the  Farm  seemed  like  Heaven  to  me.  I  hear 
the  court  ladies  next  appear  in  Roman  guise,  those  costumes! 
I  would  rather  see  one  of  Miss  Johnson's  plays  than  the  Paris 
grand  opera. 


Paris,  April  7,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Mrs.  Ladd  says  that  no  one  can  help  her  who  has  not  made 
a  specialty  of  portrait  sculpture.  Dr.  Collin  might  do,  but  she 
could  not  come  under  the  Red  Cross  as  she  is  a  neutral.  They 
seem  to  get  away  from  America  without  trouble,  but  when  they 
arrive  here  they  are  held  up  by  the  Paris  police,  who  vise"  all 
our  personnel. 

Mrs.  Ladd  is  a  genius.  I  try  to  look  after  her  a  little,  as 
she  neglects  herself  horribly,  when  genius  burns.  She  is  giving 
new  life  to  men  through  her  masks. 

I  am  going  to  lunch  with  Madame  Gotz  today,  which  means 
that  I  will  not  only  have  a  good  lunch  but  a  talk  with  a  very 
loyal  American,  who  is  so  proud  of  her  country  that  she  speaks 
of  it  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  has  intimate  friends  among 
the  high  French  people,  who  give  her  a  good  deal  of  informa- 


84      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

tion  of  the  kind  we  do  not  ordinarily  get.    They  all  admire  the 
spirit  of  our  men.    They  find  them  adaptable  and  teachable. 

The  English  have  certainly  been  giving  their  life  blood  for 
the  cause.  When  I  read  of  those  brave  batallions  going  down 
as  a  man  all  of  my  Anglo-Saxon  blood  rises  in  me  to  respond 
to  the  call. 


Paris,  April  28,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

It  has  been  two  weeks  since  a  letter  has  gone  to  you — the 
longest  period  of  silence  since  I  left  home.  I  wrote  as  usual 
last  week  on  the  train,  but  the  letter  was  so  smudgy  that  I  did 
not  send  it,  thinking  to  write  another  immediately.  But  these 
last  weeks  have  been  strenuous  ones,  and  I  had  a  horrid  cold 
which  kept  me  very  tired  as  I  coughed  so  much  at  night.  It  is 
much  better  now. 

But  to  go  back  in  history  (I  suppose  all  we  live  is  history 
now),  hearing  that  things  were  not  going  well  at  the  Chateau, 
I  decided  to  take  a  flying  trip  down  there  last  week.  I  picked 
out  the  psychological  moment  for  it,  as  the  Baby  Welfare 
Exhibit  had  caused  such  a  stir  that  all  the  high  moguls  decided 
to  go  down  to  see  what  all  the  excitement  was  about.  Miss 
Boardman  and  Mr.  Davison  have  both  been  here,  and  we  all 
arrived  in  Lyons  Sunday  morning. 

A  big  Red  Cross  lunch  was  given  for  Mr.  Davison,  who  had 
just  come  from  Italy  where  he  had  been  much  impressed  by  the 
work  of  the  Red  Cross  there.  He  received  an  ovation  in  Rome, 
where  50,000  people  gathered  in  the  Coliseum  to  do  him  honor; 
it  must  have  been  a  wonderful  sight.  Every  one  says  that  the 
Italians  are  even  more  appreciative  of  the  help  America  has 
given  them  than  the  French  are,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal. 
I  sat  at  Mr.  Davison's  right  at  the  luncheon,  which  was  an 
honor  I  should  not  have  had  according  to  my  ideas  of  etiquette, 
but  I  did  enjoy  it  as  he  was  most  interesting,  and  a  very  inti- 
mate friend  of  Cousin  Loyall's. 

Mr.  Davison  told  me  that  he  considered  Dr.  Lucas  a  genius, 
and  as  I  quite  agree  with  him  I  was  glad  to  have  my  opinion 
endorsed  by  so  clever  a  man.  He  must  have  been  all  the  more 
impressed  by  his  ability  after  lunch  when  we  visited  the  exhibit, 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      85 

and  saw  10,500  people  standing  in  line,  waiting  to  get  into  the 
pavilion.  I  shall  never  forget  that  sight.  Last  week  72,000 
people  attended — the  population  of  Lyons  is  700,000 — and  this 
did  not  include  the  school  children  who  are  taken  every  morn- 
ing to  it.  Dr.  Lucas  proved  that  he  had  a  better  understanding 
of  the  French  than  we  had,  for  we  were  all  skeptical  as  to  the 
possibility  of  interesting  people  in  an  educational  exhibit  while 
the  most  terrific  battle  in  the  world's  history  is  being  fought. 
But  the  more  the  men  are  mowed  down  the  more  eager  they 
are  to  save  the  babies  for  France. 

In  front  of  the  exhibit  building,  which  faces  one  of  their 
beautiful  squares,  a  model  playground  is  teeming  with  children 
led  by  two  charming  girls,  Ruth  Heyneman  being  one  of  them. 
That  has  been  a  revelation  to  the  French,  but  they  will  have 
to  change  their  laws  before  much  can  be  done  in  that  line,  as 
a  school  teacher  can  be  sued  for  damages  if  a  child  has  an  acci- 
dent while  at  school.  Of  course  the  most  popular  exhibit  was 
the  washing  of  the  baby  which  took  place  in  a  glass  case,  a  real 
live  baby  furnished  by  Madame  Gilet. 

We  have  had  another  rushing  week  getting  off  nurses  and 
aids  to  help  in  our  army;  not  under  the  military  authorities,  as 
they  have  been  going  into  the  French  hospitals  where  our  men 
are  taken  since  the  armies  have  been  joined.  It  is  really  a 
very  complicated  situation. 


April  28,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

I  am  going  to  St.  Cloud.  This  afternoon  I  go  to  Beauvais, 
which  is  not  far  from  Amiens.  Many  of  our  wounded  are  there. 

We  are  so  proud  of  the  courage  and  coolness  our  boys 
show.  Madame  Goetz  always  speaks  of  them  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  She  hears  them  spoken  of  by  the  French  generals. 


86      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Paris,  no  date  (probably  May  1,  1918). 
To  A.  G. 

I  have  not  been  waking  at  dawn  lately,  consequently  have 
not  had  nearly  so  much  time  for  work.  However  this  morning 
I  got  a  good  start,  and  now  have  a  few  moments.  I  feel  cheer- 
ful as  the  sun  is  shining,  a  most  unusual  occurrence,  and  the 
birds  are  singing,  too.  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  out  to  Versail- 
les where  we  have  a  nursery  which  needs  inspection.  We  have 
one  building  of  a  big  establishment  where  Dr.  Lucas  is  making 
a  demonstration  of  American  methods.  It  is  a  very  difficult 
proposition,  as  the  woman  in  charge  has  been  there  for  twenty 
years.  We  have  two  nurses  there,  and  eight  French  pupils. 

I  can  not  tell  you  how  we  miss  Dr.  Lucas,  the  inspiration 
gone.  Quite  a  number  of  new  nurses  (only  two  aids)  came  on 
the  last  boat.  I  have  been  trying  to  give  them  an  idea  of  the 
situation  here;  I  think  this  experience  will  be  a  revelation  to 
many.  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  be  the  same  again.  I  feel  sure 
you  will  find  a  changed  point  of  view  on  many  subjects. 

I  did  not  realize  until  I  left  home  that  all  my  work  in  life 
had  been  done  surrounded  by  and  supported  by  people  whom  I 
love  and  who  love  me;  but  in  spite  of  the  difficulties,  the  cause 
here  is  so  big  and  so  worth  while  that  one  is  willing  to  suffer 
for  it. 


Paris,  May  2,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  morning  I  awakened  to  the  sound  of  birds,  and  sun- 
shine streams  in  my  windows,  and  I  decided  to  celebrate  by 
writing  to  you  instead  of  doing  my  daily  French  lesson.  I  do 
not  think  we  have  had  three  weeks  of  sunshine  since  we  have 
been  in  France.  The  climate  certainly  is  horrible,  and  I  am  told 
it  is  still  worse  in  England. 

Still  the  flowers  do  bloom  in  spite  of  it;  the  trees  are  not  all 
out  yet  in  Paris,  but  the  slow  spring  has  its  compensations  in 
the  thorough  enjoyment  of  each  unfolding  blossom.  The 
Champs  Elysees  has  been  lovely  for  a  month,  and  now  that  the 
horse  chestnuts  are  in  bloom  I  think  of  our  dear  old  buck-eyes 
at  the  Farm,  and  I  feel  lonesome.  This  formal  gardening  with 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      87 

stiff,  regular  flower  beds  makes  no  appeal  to  me;  I  love  English 
parks  much  better.  If  it  were  not  for  the  Seine  I  would  not 
care  for  Paris  at  all.  On  May  Day  everyone  was  presenting 
little  bunches  of  lilies  of  the  valley  to  friends  for  good  luck;  I 
had  several  pathetic  little  bunches  brought  me  by  grateful  peo- 
ple. 

I  expected  to  get  off  to  Beauvais,  but  it  takes  interminable 
time  to  get  passes  to  move  about.  It  makes  our  work  very 
difficult.  Margaret  Robins  has  been  in  Paris  for  three  weeks 
trying  to  get  papers. 

Hannah  Hobart  is  very  much  excited  at  the  idea  of  going 
into  a  military  hospital.  Our  nurses  write  me  pathetic  accounts 
of  our  men,  and  we  were  asked  for  ten  more  nurses  yesterday. 
I  have  not  seen  Dick  since  last  September;  he  seems  to  be  in  the 
thick  of  this  battle,  and  never  has  time  to  write. 

You  asked  in  your  letter  about  Mademoiselle  De  Rose,  you 
will  be  glad  to  hear  that  we  have  one  of  our  most  flourishing 
dispensaries  at  her  settlement,  and  I  gave  her  five  hundred 
francs  to  help  send  her  children  to  the  country.  We  are  all 
anxious  to  get  the  children  out  of  Paris,  as  so  many  are  killed. 
Is  it  not  ghastly,  a  war  on  children!  Think  of  those  killed  in 
their  mother's  arms  when  the  maternity  hospital  was  shelled! 
The  women  were  all  thrown  from  their  beds,  and  many  babes 
killed,  and  the  mothers  seriously  injured. 

Last  night  we  sent  off  sixty  children  to  Evian,  as  the  hospi- 
tal there  is  empty.  The  rapatries  have  not  been  coming  in 
since  the  big  drive  started.  It  is  a  long  trip  for  the  Paris  chil- 
dren, twenty-three  hours  on  the  train,  but  I  sent  a  doctor  and 
seven  nurses  and  aids  with  them. 


Paris,  May  5,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

I  have  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  week  straightening  out 
the  educational  course;  the  first  class  of  "Visitenses  PEnfants," 
as  they  are  called,  is  just  finishing,  and  another  about  to  begin. 
Every  individual  in  the  class  had  quite  a  different  idea  of  what 
the  obligations  of  the  Red  Cross  were  to  her,  and  of  hers  to  it; 
the  course  was  not  half  long  enough,  covering  only  a  period  of 
six  weeks.  But  all  is  going  smoothly  now  for  the  new  course. 


88      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

I  have  doubled  the  time,  and  intend  to  send  the  students  into 
our  hospitals  when  they  have  completed  the  course,  before 
sending  them  into  the  field. 

We  are  giving  these  instructions  in  three  places,  Paris, 
Lyons,  and  Marseilles,  thirty  students  in  each  class,  so  you  see 
we  should  in  a  year  turn  out  a  good  many  French  women  pre- 
pared to  take  part  in  the  Infant  Mortality  campaign.  A  series 
of  twenty  lectures  is  given  them  by  French  doctors,  besides  the 
lectures  given  by  the  nurses.  We  have  one  nurse  who  speaks 
French  fluently  for  each  set  of  students,  besides  several  others 
who  speak  well  enough  to  explain  their  demonstrations.  But 
you  must  read  the  details  in  my  article  to  Miss  Crandall. 

Tomorrow  I  go  to  Beauvais,  where  so  many  of  our  men  are 
in  the  French  hospitals.  I  feel  quite  sure  that  my  place  is  just 
where  I  am.  I  would  willingly  turn  over  every  nurse  we  have 
to  our  men  if  they  need  it,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  our  first  obliga- 
tion. Do  you  think  I  am  right  in  this?  It  seems  to  me  that  if 
our  own  are  neglected  all  the  work  we  do  for  civilian  France 
will  not  count. 

You  ask  about  the  children's  clothing;  I  have  not  yet  heard 
of  the  arrival  of  any,  but  am  sure  some  must  have  come  as  they 
have  it  in  the  warehouse. 

I  have  given  up  in  despair  trying  to  get  individuals  over 
here,  there  are  so  many  stumbling  blocks  put  in  the  way. 

I  can  not  answer  your  question  about  how  the  man  with 
artificial  fingers  learned  to  be  a  clerk.  Why  not  write  and  ask 
him? 


Paris,  May  5,  1918. 
To  C.  S. 

The  Lucases  got  off  last  week,  and  I  miss  them  very  much. 
I  hated  to  see  them  leave  without  me.  I  suppose  I  will  be  over 
here  several  years  longer  from  the  looks  of  things. 

I  am  going  to  Beauvais  on  Monday  where  many  of  our  men 
are  being  cared  for  in  French  hospitals  by  our  nurses,  mostly 
mine,  as  I  have  lent  them  to  the  Military  Affairs  of  the  Red 
Cross — not  to  the  army.  I  have  also  let  them  have  a  number  of 
aids,  who  are  most  acceptable  as  they  speak  French.  I  wish 
that  I  had  three  times  as  many  aids,  but  it  seems  impossible  to 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      89 

get  them.    My  aids  are  a  really  very  exceptionally  fine  set  of 
girls. 

We  are  beginning  to  have  a  few  bright  days;  the  sun  shines 
occasionally.  I  do  miss  our  California  sun.  It  rains  or  fogs 
here  nine  days  out  of  ten,  but  the  trees  are  out  and  the  flowers 
in  bloom.  The  Champs  Elysees  is  lovely. 


Paris,  May  10,  1918. 
To  C.  L. 

I  fully  intended  to  get  up  early  this  morning,  and  go  to  St. 
Germain,  where  I  hear  that  the  woods  are  full  of  lovely  flowers, 
but  of  course  it  is  raining!  It  rains  or  is  foggy  nine  days  out 
of  ten  over  here,  I  am  just  homesick  for  some  California  sun- 
shine. I  expected  to  see  at  St.  Germain,  Malmaison,  the 
house  where  Josephine  lived. 

In  spite  of  the  bad  weather  the  flowers  are  wonderful  now. 
I  wish  you  could  see  the  flower  market  near  the  Madelaine,  I 
walk  by  there  every  day.  Miss  Griffith  writes  me  how  lovely 
everything  looks  at  the  Farm.  Barbara  is  there  again,  and  I 
am  glad  as  I  think  she  has  the  interests  of  the  place  at  heart. 
I  wonder  how  long  it  will  be  before  we  are  all  there  together 
again.  I  hope  the  children  have  a  party  on  the  16th  of  June, 
I  am  going  to  send  Miss  Griffith  some  money  to  get  something 
for  them.  I  do  not  want  them  to  quite  forget  us,  do  you. 

Last  week  I  went  to  Beauvais,  a  town  not  far  from  the 
French  lines  where  our  men  are  fighting.  I  have  been  sending 
a  number  of  my  nurses  and  aids  there  to  care  for  our  men  in 
the  French  hospitals.  They  are  all  mixed  up  in  the  wards  with 
the  French,  so  it  is  not  very  satisfactory,  and  of  course  the 
French  idea  of  nursing  is  very  different  from  ours,  but  the 
nurses  are  fine  about  it  all,  and  do  the  best  they  can.  They  feel 
it  worth  while  just  for  the  comfort  the  boys  get  from  talking  to 
them.  They  often  cry  when  they  first  see  an  American,  the 
relief  is  so  great.  You  see  they  do  not  understand  what  is 
being  done  for  them,  so  have  no  confidence.  The  French  sur- 
geons are  very  fine  and  do  all  in  their  power  for  our  men,  they 
are  kindness  itself  to  them.  The  other  day  one  died  at  Gisor, 
a  small  town  near  Beauvais;  the  whole  town  turned  out  to 


90      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

honor  him,  and  they  found  a  Protestant  clergyman  to  read  the 
service.  All  the  school  children  followed  the  hearse  with 
flowers,  it  was  most  touching.  The  nurse,  one  of  mine,  wrote 
to  his  mother  all  about  it.  The  poor  fellow  was  a  Virginian, 
and  sang  just  before  he  died,  "To  Be  in  Old  Virginia/' 

I  saw  ever  so  many  wounded  from  Dick's  regiment.  I 
visited  twelve  hospitals,  one  thousand  beds  in  each  hospital.  I 
think  the  Red  Cross  will  open  a  hospital  there  for  our  men;  we 
already  have  a  small  children's  hospital  which  will  be  con- 
verted into  a  military  one.  There  is  a  great  difference  between 
the  army  and  the  military  Red  Cross,  you  must  not  get  them 
mixed  up — when  I  say  military  I  always  mean  Red  Cross. 

More  nurses  are  coming  over  now,  I  am  glad  to  say,  but  not 
more  aids,  and  the  latter  are  really  more  important  at  present, 
as  the  nurses  who  do  not  speak  French  are  pretty  helpless  in 
the  French  hospitals.  Fortunately  the  nurses  who  came  over 
first  have  picked  up  a  good  deal. 

A  French  woman  came  to  me  yesterday  and  asked  if  this 
was  the  place  where  eye  tickets  were  given  out,  said  she  had 
lost  her  eye  when  she  had  measles  and  would  like  one.  You  see 
they  come  to  the  Red  Cross  for  everything.  I  took  her  to  the 
dispensary  where  she  got  an  order  for  one. 


Name  of  place  censored,  May  19,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

While  awaiting  my  tempting  breakfast  which  will  consist  of 
bad  coffee  without  sugar  or  cream  and  bread  without  butter,  I 
will  try  at  least  to  begin  a  letter  to  you.  The  loss  of  my 
fountain  pen  certainly  was  a  serious  one;  you  will  have  to  be 
content  with  pencil  which  is  most  disagreeable,  I  know. 

I  had  a  perfectly  heavenly  twelve-hour  trip  here  yesterday. 
The  day  was  perfect,  the  country  so  beautiful,  and  I  so  ner- 
vously tired  at  the  end  of  an  exasperating  week.  But  I  do  not 
intend  to  talk  shop  this  lovely  May  morning.  It  is  Whit  Sun- 
day, and  I  have  decided  to  spend  the  day  quietly  here  by  myself, 
going  to  church  and  for  a  walk.  I  met  a  very  sweet,  friendly 
girl  from  Kentucky  on  the  train  yesterday,  whose  mother-in- 
law  lives  near  here  at  Chateau  Neuf.  She  says  it  is  a  wonder- 
fully interesting  place  built  in  the  time  of  Louis  XI,  who  slept 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      91 

there  one  night.  I  am  to  go  out  to  tea  with  her  this  afternoon. 
Her  mother-in-law  was  an  American,  Miss  Polk,  who  married 
a  famous  French  general. 

Tomorrow  I  will  cross  to  Dinard  and  inspect  the  thousand 
little  refugees  from  Nancy,  who  have  been  there  for  six  weeks 
without  a  change  of  clothing,  which  reminds  me  that  the  pack- 
age of  nightgowns  arrived  from  Mrs.  Griffith.  Thank  her  and 
tell  her  that  I  will  write  soon  and  thank  her  for  them,  and  for 
the  Easter  greeting  which  was  the  only  one  which  reached  me. 
Just  before  leaving  Paris  I  received  a  letter  from  Dick,  the  first 
since  he  took  his  part  in  the  offensive — I  cabled  his  mother — 
I  can  not  tell  you  how  relieved  I  was  to  see  his  hand-writing. 

The  trip  was  a  joy  from  start  to  finish.  You  know  how  this 
country  looks  in  spring,  all  so  tenderly  beautiful,  such  a  con- 
trast to  our  mountains,  valleys,  ravines,  and  great  stretches  of 
plains  carpeted  with  intense  colors.  This  is  the  perfect  time,  as 
the  trees  are  not  all  out,  many  just  showing  feathery  green  on 
the  swaying  branches — I  have  never  seen  so  many  shades  of 
green.  Then  the  fruit  blossoms,  hawthorne,  bridal  wreath,  and 
best  of  all,  I  thought,  fields  of  buttercups,  the  only  familiar 
wild  flowers  I  have  seen.  The  genesta  is  in  full  bloom,  you 
know  how  beautiful  that  is!  I  am  charmed,  too,  by  the  absence 
of  fences,  the  lovely  blooming  hedges  make  the  division,  but 
it  certainly  is  not  humanly  speaking  economical,  as  each  cow, 
horse,  and  pig  in  France  has  to  have  an  individual  guardian  to 
keep  him  from  going  astray;  it  is  too  amusing  to  see  them 
take  their  animals  out  for  a  walk  just  as  people  do  pet  dogs 
once  a  day  for  a  constitutional!  And  the  birds,  they  are  so 
delicious,  I  have  never  heard  such  singing!  The  flowering 
hedges  are  just  filled  with  them.  And  scattered  all  through  this 
lovely  country  the  old  houses  with  their  tiled  and  moss-covered 
roofs  only  add  to  the  enchantment. 

St.  Malo,  I  am  told,  is  lovely.  I  am  looking  forward  to  a 
day  of  bliss,  away  from  the  sound  of  guns  and  "Alerts."  I 
shall  try  to  forget  that  the  world  is  at  war. 


92      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Paris,  May  26,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Since  writing  to  you  on  the  train  of  the  beauties  and  de- 
lights of  my  trip  to  San  Malo  I  have  had  an  eventful  week.  I 
traveled  with  the  Marquise  de  Charette,  who  was  en  route  to 
her  country  place  near  San  Malo.  We  became  very  friendly 
at  the  end  of  a  twelve-hour  voyage  together,  so  it  ended  in  my 
spending  Sunday  afternoon  at  the  most  beautiful  place  I  have 
seen  in  France,  and  it  was  most  interesting,  too.  The  Baroness 
de  Charette  is  the  widow  of  a  very  famous  French  general  who 
raised  a  volunteer  regiment  of  Zouaves  to  take  to  Italy  to  de- 
fend the  Pope  against  Garibaldi.  His  regiment  presented  him 
with  this  beautiful  place.  It  is  full  of  interesting  relics  of  Gari- 
baldi's army,  etc.  The  chateau  was  built  in  the  time  of  Louis 
XI,  and  is  a  dream,  simply  covered  with  ivy. 

Madame  Charette  was  a  Miss  Polk.  She  is  a  woman  of  about 
eighty,  very  well  preserved  and  full  of  energy;  her  only  son  is 
in  the  tank  service  and  was  wounded  some  time  ago.  The 
tanks,  it  seems,  can  only  be  used  in  an  offensive,  this  should 
relieve  Millie's  mind  about  Loyall,  as  we  are  not  apt  to  have  an 
offensive  soon.  Madame  Charette  knew  your  cousin,  Mr.  Stone, 
when  she  was  a  girl.  She  told  me  with  great  pride  that  they 
were  once  the  only  two  people  outside  the  royal  family  at  some 
function  in  Russia. 

We  walked  through  the  most  heavenly  woods  you  can 
imagine,  where  the  marguerites,  primroses,  forget-me-nots,  and 
lillies  of  the  valley  grew  thick  in  the  high  grass.  I  nearly  lost 
my  head  with  the  beauty  of  it  all.  It  did  me  lots  of  good 
because  I  found  that  I  had  some  capacity  for  enjoyment  left 
in  me  still.  "To  him  who  in  the  love  of  nature  holds  com- 
munion with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks  a  various  language. 
She  glides  into  his  darker  moments  with  a  mild  and  healing 
sympathy  that  steals  away  the  sharpness  ere  he  is  aware." 

And  San  Malo,  is  it  not  beautiful  there?  I  sat  on  the  ram- 
parts through  the  long  twilight,  saw  the  moon  come  up  over 
the  waters,  and  in  listening  to  the  waves  felt  less  lonely  than 
I  have  since  leaving  home.  The  next  morning  after  this  day 
of  relief  and  bliss  I  went  over  to  Dinard,  where  the  colony  of 
one  thousand  children  from  Nancy  are  under  our  medical  super- 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      93 

vision,  these  are  not  under  the  direct  supervision  of  the  Red 
Cross,  but  are  supposed  to  be  looked  after  by  the  Nancy  people. 

The  next  day  I  started  direct  for  Paris,  expecting  to  arrive 
here  that  same  night,  but  was  diverted  by  one  of  the  members 
of  the  Smith  unit  who  was  on  her  way  to  Mont  St.  Michael. 
I  found  that  I  could  go  with  her  by  taking  the  night  train  for 
Paris.  We  had  a  wonderful  day  together;  you  know  what  a 
miracle  that  place  is,  built  out  of  that  solid  rock.  I  paid  for  my 
pleasure  by  a  night  of  horror  on  the  train  where  I  stood  for 
three  hours,  and  then  got  a  seat  in  a  second-class  carriage 
between  two  men,  one  of  whom  smoked  a  pipe  all  night. 

Miss  Bliss,  the  Smith  girl,  told  me  a  tale  of  absorbing  inter- 
est although  of  horror.  She  literally  took  part  in  the  retreat  of 
the  British  army.  Their  unit  was  at  Nesle,  and  they  moved 
back  inch  by  inch  as  the  Boche  approached.  It  was  a  thrilling 
experience  and  all  so  tragic.  This  unit  had  for  months  kept 
open  house  for  these  men  at  Nesle,  and  knew  many  of  them 
intimately.  Most  of  them  were  killed  or  taken  prisoners.  These 
very  same  fleeing  men,  when  they  met  the  French  coming  to 
their  rescue,  turned  about  and  fought  splendidly.  The  Smith 
unit  slowly  retreated  to  Beauvais  where  they  are  running  a  can- 
teen, and  visiting  our  men  who  are  in  the  French  hospitals. 
They  are  a  fine  lot.  I  am  glad  I  sent  Camilla  there. 

I  am  going  to  get  up  now  and  go  to  St.  Germain  for  the 
day,  and  try  to  forget  the  horrors  of  war.  You  asked  me  why 
I  do  not  dictate  my  letters  to  my  stenographer  to  save  time, 
you  must  remember  that  they  are  all  written  on  Sunday.  I  am 
not  writing  any  more  to  Miss  Crandall  as  she  has  never 
acknowledged  any  I  sent  her,  so  I  suppose  they  are  not  what 
she  wants. 


94      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Memorial  Day,  Paris,  1918. 
To  L.  McL.  and  C.  A.  S. 

The  last  three  days  have  been  more  strenuous  than  usual. 
Big  Bertha  announced  the  beginning  of  the  new  offensive.  It  is 
very  thoughtful  of  the  Hun  to  keep  us  so  well  informed  of  his 
plans.  I  immediately  began  sending  telegrams  to  my  nurses  to 
report  in  Paris.  I  thought  I  wouldn't  wait  until  a  hurry  call 
came  for  them.  Unfortunately  Dr.  Knox  was  away  so  I  had  to 
assume  a  good  deal  of  authority  and  take  a  big  responsibility  as 
we  have  not  nearly  enough  nurses  at  the  various  hospitals  and 
dispensaries,  as  it  is.  While  frantic  telegrams  were  coming  in 
for  help  from  our  different  centers,  I  was  sending  equally 
frantic  ones  for  nurses.  Then  news  from  the  front  came  pour- 
ing in,  calls  for  help  to  arrive,  and  when  a  conference  was 
called  and  a  demand  was  made  on  me  for  forty  nurses,  and  I 
was  able  to  produce  forty-three  instantly,  the  relief  of  the  Mili- 
tary Affairs  Committee  was  great.  Those  nurses  got  off  yester- 
day afternoon  in  big  trucks  to  the  front  and  I  assure  you  I  had 
a  big  lump  in  my  throat  when  1  saw  the  last  of  them.  The 
Boche  are  systematically  trying  to  get  the  hospitals,  especially 
the  American — the  hospital  for  which  half  of  those  nurses  were 
destined  was  shelled  the  day  before.  Our  little  refugee  hospital 
in  the  same  place  had  bombs  dropped  on  it  a  few  days  ago. 
One  of  the  nurses  wrote  me  that  she  had  saved  a  new-born  baby 
by  sheltering  it  in  her  arms.  I  will  enclose  you  the  letter  she 
wrote.  The  patients  from  this  hospital  have  all  been  evacuated 
now  so  I  have  turned  over  the  staff  to  the  military. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  soul-stirring  days  I  have  ever  spent. 
In  the  early  morning  I  read  of  the  Hun  advance,  that  Soissons 
was  taken,  of  the  danger  Rheims  was  in,  of  the  wonderful 
fighting  side  by  side  of  the  British  and  French  troops,  and  then 
to  cheer  and  give  us  hope,  of  the  splendid  fighting  and  success 
of  our  men,  who  in  the  midst  of  this  general  retreat  actually 
made  some  advance.  Madame  Gotz  told  me  about  it  with  tears 
in  her  eyes.  A  French  officer  had  telephoned  to  her,  she  said 
to  me  when  I  met  her  at  church,  "My  dear,  it  was  so  magnifi- 
cent, I  am  proud  of  my  country."  She  has  lived  over  here  for 
fifty  years.  The  boys  went  over  the  top  as  cheerfully  as  if  they 
were  playing  baseball.  My  nurses  went  eagerly  to  the  front. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      95 

Those  few  who  were  left  behind  were  in  tears.  After  they  left 
there  was  a  few  moments  lull,  so  I  slipped  into  the  American 
Church  for  the  Memorial  Day  service.  I  longed  for  you  both. 
It  was  the  most  wonderful  and  inspiring  service  I  ever  attended. 
The  church  was  beautifully  decorated  with  poppies,  bluets  and 
white  sweet  peas.  When  the  boys  marched  up  the  aisle  carry- 
ing on  high  their  standards,  followed  by  a  number  with 
shouldered  arms  singing  the  "Son  of  God  Goes  Forth  to  War," 
it  was  all  the  congregation  could  do  to  refrain  from  kneeling 
down  to  conceal  their  tears.  They  looked  so  big  and  fine  and 
grave  and  handsome  and  we  knew  they  were,  too,  for  we  had 
just  been  reading  of  their  glorious  fighting  which  has  done 
much  to  keep  up  the  morale  of  the  allies,  as  they  say  all  the 
time  "more  like  them  are  pouring  over."  And  just  think  of  it, 
my  dear  sisters,  your  boys  are  right  there,  taking  a  splendid 
part  in  this  great  struggle  which  is  going  to  settle  the  destiny 
of  the  world  for  so  many  generations  to  come.  How  proud 
you  must  be  of  them,  I  have  some  little  idea  of  your  feelings  as 
I  have  such  a  feeling  of  pride,  when  I  say,  "I  have  four  nephews 
at  the  front,"  now  that  Rogers  is  here,  I  count  the  fourth.  I 
had  a  note  from  him. 

The  hymn  was  followed  by  the  reading  of  the  President's 
message,  some  solemn  music  rendered  by  an  English  military 
band,  then  a  sort  of  requiem  service  which  we  realized  would 
be  the  only  service  which  would  be  read  for  some  of  our  boys. 
Finally  the  three  national  anthems  were  sung  with  a  fervor  I 
have  never  heard  before.  You  would  both  have  felt  upheld  and 
uplifted  in  this  great  sacrifice  you  are  daily  making,  if  you  could 
have  seen  the  shining  faces  of  those  men  and  boys  who  are 
going  forth  to  fight  for  justice,  truth  and  liberty.  Be  of  good 
courage  and  remember  that  I  am  at  hand  always  and  ready  to 
go  to  them  if  they  need  me. 


96      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Paris,  June  1,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Big  Bertha  is  booming  again  this  morning,  a  report  was  so 
loud  a  moment  since  that  it  nearly  startled  me  out  of  bed.  As 
you  know  the  second  drive  is  on,  and  we  are  rushing  nurses  to 
the  front. 

Our  work  is  suffering  terribly  by  it.  For  instance,  I  have 
been  calling  nurses  to  Paris  for  several  weeks,  knowing  that 
they  would  suddenly  be  needed.  Yesterday  the  Military  Af- 
fairs sent  in  a  call  for  twenty  nurses,  fortunately  most  of  my 
nurses  are  availble. 


Paris,  June  2,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

I  wrote  you  in  my  last  of  the  queer  pain  I  had  in  my  arm 
and  throat  which  I  thought  was  rheumatism.  Well,  after  half 
a  night's  rest  it  was  much  better.  I  had  quite  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  spend  Sunday  in  bed,  but  after  hearing  a  tale  of 
tragedy  from  one  of  my  guests,  I  got  up  and  went  out  to  the 
American  Ambulance,  where  I  knew  I  could  find  out  the  true 
state  of  affairs.  There  I  found  every  corner  filled  with  our 
wounded,  but  they  were  getting  on  all  right,  very  grateful  to 
me  for  the  help  sent,  I  sent  out  some  of  the  Paris  dispensary 
nurses  to  help  for  a  few  days.  I  am  going  to  hang  on  to  some 
of  the  Paris  nurses  as  long  as  possible  as  they  fit  into  all  kinds 
of  emergencies.  I  think  my  mission  in  life  at  present  is  to  do 
odd  jobs,  and  am  hauling  in  nurses  from  all  sides.  I  met  a 
canteen  worker  the  other  day  who  told  me  she  was  a  graduate 
nurse,  but  not  in  the  Red  Cross  because  she  had  no  obstetrics! 
I  explained  to  her  that  this  was  no  maternity  job,  and  had  her 
signed  up  before  she  knew  where  she  was.  I  gathered  in  eight 
last  week  who  were  not  connected  with  us.  Anne  Morgan  has 
a  number  of  floating  people  and  the  American  fund  contributed 
three.  I  am  so  grateful  for  my  promiscuous  acquaintanceship; 
Mrs.  Lathrop,  Willie  Gwin,  Anne  Morgan,  Mrs.  Vanderbilt  are 
all  useful  people  to  know. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  97 


June  5. 

No  time  to  finish  the  other  morning.  I  have  had  a  mad  sort 
of  day.  Most  unsatisfactory,  except  that  I  found  a  dozen  more 
nurses  for  our  men. 

At  five  o'clock  I  saw  our  nurses  and  aids  off  to  the  front, 
realizing  that  some  may  never  return.  It  was  a  big  responsi- 
bility sending  those  aids  who  had  come  for  children's  work, 
but  they  were  eager  to  go  and  I  think  it  is  their  right  to  volun- 
teer for  such  service  just  as  their  brothers  do. 

We  hear  better  news  tonight,  but  so  far  nothing  official. 


Paris,  June  12,  1918. 
To  E.  C.  G. 

I  have  been  really  nursing  at  last.  I  have  been  going  to 
the  American  Ambulance  at  Neuilly  every  day  helping  out. 
When  our  Marines  went  so  suddenly  into  the  fight  at  Chateau 
Theirry,  our  hospitals  weren't  prepared  for  the  large  number  of 
wounded  that  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  arrived,  it  was  terrible. 
The  hospital  at  Neuilly  almost  over  night  increased  from  600 
to  1,500  beds.  The  nurses  were  routed  out  of  their  beds  at 
eleven  p.  m.,  one  night,  and  wounded  from  the  operating  room 
brought  right  in.  You  can't  imagine  anything  like  it.  The 
slightly  wounded  were  sent  away  at  quickly  as  possible  to  make 
room  for  more,  consequently  there  was  a  continuous  stream  of 
stretchers  going  and  coming.  The  men  were  perfectly  splendid. 
I  never  saw  a  finer  lot  of  boys,  they  really  are  boys,  very  few 
even  twenty-one  years  old,  many  seventeen.  The  engineers  did 
splendid  work,  they  just  threw  aside  their  picks  and  shovels,  and 
fought  to  the  death.  Really  even  our  papers  can't  exaggerate 
the  courage  and  spirit  of  those  boys.  The  French  are  wild  over 
them.  Strangers  meet  us  on  the  street  and  embrace  us  in 
gratitude,  it  is  most  embarrassing,  as  we  all  feel  as  a  nation 
that  we  can't  do  enough.  The  boys  talk  freely  to  me  while  I 
do  their  dressings,  make  beds,  etc.  It  is  really  so  extraordinary 
to  hear  them  recount  their  killing  of  men.  I  can't  get  over 
the  shock.  When  I  ask  the  men  how  they  feel  when  they  just 


98      INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

kill  a  man,  they  say  it  generally  happens  after  they  have  seen 
some  of  their  comrades  killed,  and  rage  fills  their  hearts.  I 
think  it  all  too  dreadful,  but  how  they  can  unflinchingly  face 
that  deadly  machine  gun  fire,  and  see  thousands  mowed  down 
before  them,  I  can't  understand.  The  doctors  and  orderlies  are 
so  tender  with  the  men,  the  stretcher  bearers  handle  them  so 
lovingly,  it  is  very  touching.  The  thing  that  upsets  me  more 
than  anything  else  is  their  simple  gratitude.  Most  of  these 
boys  come  from  good  homes,  and  they  have  found  this  last 
year  in  the  trenches  pretty  difficult.  Very  few  gentle  words 
have  been  spoken  to  them  and  they  have  suffered  so  many  real 
hardships,  such  as  having  no  water  for  days,  being  without 
food,  sleeping  in  damp  ditches,  etc.,  that  in  spite  of  their 
wounds,  the  hospital  seems  like  heaven.  I  wish  I  had  time 
to  write  you  more  fully  of  it.  I  enclose  a  small  donation  for 
the  Ross  Chapel,  use  it  as  you  like. 


Paris,  June  13,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Not  since  I  left  home  has  no  long  a  period  elapsed  without 
my  writing,  but  when  I  tell  you  the  cause  you  will  understand 
and  forgive.  Last  week  I  got  so  upset  over  the  stories  of 
wounded  (it  was  just  after  the  Marines  had  fought  so  splen- 
didly near  Chateau  Thierry)  that  I  just  went  out  to  the 
American  Ambulance,  saw  for  myself  the  conditions,  and  offered 
my  services,  which  were  thankfully  accepted.  Then  I  went  back 
and  asked  for  a  vacation,  which  was  granted  me  by  Dr.  Knox 
most  sympathetically,  he  knowing  that  I  would  not  ask  for  one 
at  this  time  unless  I  absolutely  needed  it.  After  making  the 
leave  safe  I  told  him  my  plan. 

Well,  I  have  been  through  a  week  of  horror,  but  thankful- 
ness, too,  that  I  have  the  training  which  enables  me  to  relieve 
a  little  of  this  suffering.  I  can  not  write  to  you  about  it,  but 
you  will  appreciate  somewhat  the  nursing  situation  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  had  a  tent  containing  thirty-six  men  turned  over 
to  me,  eighteen  of  whom  had  been  admitted  in  the  night,  and 
many  of  whom  had  been  operated  on,  four  coming  out  of  ether 
when  I  arrived,  and  no  nurse  had  been  near  them,  there  being 
none  to  send.  Convalescent  patients  were  looking  out  for  them 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      99 

in  a  fashion.  The  hospital  in  a  few  days  almost  doubled  in 
size.  Twenty  nurses  were  promised  six  weeks  ago  but  have 
not  arrived  yet.  One  takes  care  of  sixty-four  patients,  assisted 
by  three  aids. 

Of  course  at  the  end  of  a  day  of  these  dreadful  sights,  the 
unaccustomed  lifting,  bending,  etc.,  I  am  almost  exhausted,  but 
I  sleep  well  and  wake  more  rested  than  I  have  for  a  long  time. 


En  route  to  Rouen,  June  22,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  write  on  the  trains  as  they  are 
hopelessly  jerky,  but  I  am  going  to  try  to  write  to  you  a  sort 
of  progressive  letter,  writing  at  the  stations.  Oh  I  for  a  foun- 
tain pen!  I  am  really  lost  without  one.  I  have  bought  two 
and  both  no  good. 

The  work  became  so  light  at  the  Ambulance  at  the  end  of 
my  second  week  that  I  decided  to  take  a  few  days  off  and 
inspect  our  dispensary  at  Rouen.  It  is  for  refugees  at  the  sta- 
tion. Rouen  is  in  the  English  war  zone,  and  two  of  our  base 
hospitals  are  there.  The  town  has  been  bombarded  for  several 
weeks  now,  we  hear  that  Big  Bertha's  efforts  have  been  directed 
there  instead  of  on  Paris. 

I  have  just  been  talking  to  an  English  officer;  he  asked  me 
if  the  Fifth  Marines  had  been  in  the  fight  at  Chateau  Thierry, 
he  has  been  with  them  near  Verdun.  I  answered  "Yes,  the 
Fifth  was  almost  wiped  out,  in  one  instance  only  four  men 
being  left  in  a  company."  They  are  composed  of  young,  ardent 
boys  who  think  the  world  is  theirs,  as  I  wrote  you  before  they 
range  in  age  from  seventeen  to  twenty.  If  you  ask  one  if  he 
was  not  afraid  or  if  he  can  bear  the  pain  of  a  dreadful  wound, 
the  answer  always  is:  "Why,  I  am  a  Marine  I" 

A  Frenchman  yesterday  told  me  that  he  had  received  a  letter 
from  a  friend  from  the  trenches  with  the  following  character- 
istic tale  in  it:  Two  reconnoitering  parties  of  ten  each  had  been 
sent  out  in  opposite  directions.  The  French,  having  accom- 
plished their  mission  returned  to  the  base,  but  it  was  a  long 
time  before  anything  was  seen  of  the  Americans,  who  finally 
appeared  triumphant  with  a  number  of  prisoners.  It  seems  that 


100     INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

they  had  gone  where  they  were  sent,  to  the  first  line  of  trenches, 
but  seeing  no  one,  they  penetrated  to  the  second  line,  captured 
some  prisoners,  and  then  returned  as  things  began  to  get  too 
hot  for  them.  Now,  much  of  this  kind  of  thing  is  really  fool- 
hardy, but  the  moral  effect  of  their  young  enthusiasm  upon 
these  tired  allied  armies  is  really  a  reviving  force  which  seems 
to  make  the  sacrifice  worth  while.  The  French  simply  hug 
them  in  delight,  particularly  here  where  they  are  placed  between 
the  oncoming  hordes  of  barbarians  and  Paris. 

It  does  not  seem  possible  with  the  present  grim  determina- 
tion set  against  it  that  the  Boche  will  ever  enter  Paris.  Did  I 
write  you  the  answer  a  Frenchman  made  the  other  day  to  a 
Red  Cross  worker  who  asked  him  if  he  thought  the  Boche 
would  come  to  Paris?  "Did  you  ever  see  a  pig  in  the  streets 
of  Paris?  No?  Well,  you  never  will!" 


Sunday  A.  M.,  Rouen. 

What  a  beautiful,  interesting  place  this  is,  but  one's  pleasure 
in  seeing  these  wonderful  churches,  monuments,  and  public 
buildings  is  destroyed  by  the  ever-present  fear  that  at  any 
moment  the  Boche  big  gun,  which  is  now  trained  on  Rouen, 
may  destroy  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  beauty  which  it  has 
taken  centuries  to  create,  and  which  the  hand  of  man  is  power- 
less to  reproduce.  It  is  strange  how  one  trembles  with  fear 
for  these  wonderful  historic  monuments  while  the  thought  of 
personal  danger  is  very  remote. 

I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  cathedral  tower,  the  first  time  I 
have  done  such  a  thing  in  France,  always  having  a  vivid  recol- 
lection of  how  my  knees  ached  when  descending  the  Mission 
tower  at  Santa  Barbara.  I  climbed  the  tower  with  a  very 
pleasant  English  officer,  and  he  and  I  forgot  the  war,  and 
reminiscenced  on  the  beauties  of  Rome.  I  think  this  place  is 
more  full  of  historic  interest  and  beauty  than  any  other  town 
I  have  visited,  but  one  can  not  forget  the  war  for  long  as  the 
British  Tommies  fill  the  streets.  I  met  a  very  enthusiastic 
American  woman  who  has  been  married  ten  years  to  a  French- 
man, and  she  acted  as  my  guide. 

The  refugees  came  in  here  in  hordes  two  weeks  ago,  but 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  101 

now  it  is  pretty  quiet.  We  have  a  dispensary-. at  th£  station,,  a 
doctor  and  nurse  in  charge.  The  doctor  here  is  the  sister  of 
Mr.  Coolige  who  was  at  Burlingame  for  so  li>ng,  ;,  ,  .,'  ,  ; 

To  return  to  Rouen,  I  am  particularly  enthusiastic  over  the 
Palace  of  Justice  which  I  think  is  a  perfect  public  building,  it 
is  so  wonderfully  harmonious.  And  do  you  remember  the  little 
church  of  St.  Maclou  quite  near  the  Cathedral?  It  is  strange 
that  the  English  are  finally  here  allies  with  their  ancient 
enemies,  the  French,  in  the  very  spot  where  they  captured  Joan 
of  Arc  and  burned  her  so  many  centuries  ago.  The  French  are 
very  enthusiastic  over  the  Americans  as  fighters.  A  Frenchman 
explained  to  me  the  difference  between  American  and  British 
the  other  day;  he  said  that  if  a  company  of  French  or  Ameri- 
can men  lost  their  officers  they  would  go  right  on  just  the  same, 
but  when  the  English  lost  their  officers  they  lost  their  heads. 

There  are  thousands  of  women  laborers  here  doing  men's 
work;  they  are  dreadful  looking  people,  hard-featured  and  very 
bold  expressions.  The  V.  A.  D.'s  are  most  attractive  just  like 
my  aids,  who  really  are  the  flower  of  our  civil  army  here.  Nine 
of  them  returned  from  a  French  hospital  where  they  have  been 
for  six  weeks,  Hannah  H.  and  Margaret  Robins  among  them. 
The  former  is  a  perfect  dear,  so  simple  and  genuine.  We  all 
dined  together  before  they  left  again  for  the  front,  and  included 
Mary  Eyre,  who  is  installed  at  the  American  Ambulance,  taking 
histories  for  the  home  service. 


Paris,  June  26,  1918. 
To  C.  A.  S.  and  L.  McL. 

After  a  three  weeks'  letter  famine  it  was  with  joy  that  today 
I  received  an  accumulated  mail  consisting  of  22  letters,  wasn't 
that  wonderful?  I  had  a  perfect  feast.  Miss  Maxwell  and  Miss 
Dabney  have  also  arrived  laden  with  packages  and  news  for  me, 
so  I  feel  very  happy  and  close  to  you  all.  The  war  news  is 
more  encouraging,  too,  the  feeling  here  is  that  America  has 
shown  what  her  men  can  do,  although  they  have  not  spent  their 
lives  in  the  study  and  art  of  killing  men.  They  learn  so  quickly 
and  are  so  eager  to  be  taught,  that  it  is  half  the  battle.  We  are 
so  proud  of  them,  I  know  you  will  often  think  that  much  that 


102  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

y bit  read  of'their-\7cnd!erful  work  is  newspaper  talk  but  I  assure 
you  that  nothing  we  say  surpasses  what  the  French  say  of 
tfftn*.  -I«  C7V£fhea*-(T  a  party  of  Frenchmen  talking  the  other 
night  at  a  restaurant  and  one  said,  and  they  all  agreed,  that 
in  the  time  to  come  when  history  would  tell  the  tale,  that  Bel- 
gium and  America  would  get  the  credit  for  saving  democracy 
and  liberty,  and  that  Wilson  would  have  a  widespread  fame, 
second  only  to  that  of  Christ.  Every  one  here  simply  idolizes 
Wilson,  they  think  him  the  greatest  prophet  of  democracy  that 
the  world  has  ever  seen. 


Paris,  June  27,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

You  know  my  feeling  of  relief  and  joy  when  at  last  after  a 
three  weeks'  fast  all  your  letters  came.  I  was  the  envy  of  the 
whole  office,  I  always  am,  for  no  one  has  such  true  and  devoted 
friends  as  I  have. 

I  was  so  glad  to  hear  about  the  Red  Cross  parade;  half  a 
dozen  people  wrote  me,  "I  will  not  tell  you  about  it,  as  Alice 
surely  will."  Curiously  enough  you  never  mentioned  it  until  it 
was  over.  I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  have  seen  our 
Telegraph  Hill  mothers  march — that  was  a  real  triumph.  The 
whole  thing  must  have  been  inspiring. 

I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  had  a  change  of  heart  in  regard 
to  the  service  flags  after  reading  a  letter  one  of  our  wounded 
boys  had  from  home.  His  mother  wrote,  "My  flag  has  two 
stars,  and  in  each  star  I  see  the  face  of  my  boy."  Outward 
and  visible  signs  do  not  mean  to  me,  I  fear,  as  much  as  they 
should.  For  instance  there  is  a  service  stripe  given  over  here 
for  every  six  months  of  service;  now,  it  does  not  appeal  to  me 
at  all  to  wear  on  my  sleeve  the  advertisement  of  the  fact  that 
I  have  for  six  months  been  doing  an  obvious  duty. 

As  to  the  nurses,  it  is  really  difficult  to  have  hospitals  ready 
at  every  point  because,  of  course,  no  one  but  old  Hindenburg 
knows  just  where  the  attack  will  be  made,  and  he  won't  tell! 
For  instance,  we  rushed  all  our  nurses  to  a  certain  point  when 
one  attack  was  on;  they  did  magnificent,  heroic  work  for  two 
weeks  in  a  hospital  which  was  being  shelled,  and  now  for  three 
weeks  have  had  nothing  to  do  as  that  sector  has  been  very 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  103 

quiet.  If  they  are  withdrawn,  tomorrow  the  sector  may  become 
the  center  of  the  conflict,  and  we  would  again  be  unprepared. 
I  have  a  real  feeling  for  the  first  time  that  the  end  is  in 
sight.  Our  men  have  made  such  a  splendid  showing,  and  are 
coming  over  so  rapidly  that  I  believe  the  Huns  will  not  be  will- 
ing to  enter  upon  another  spring  campaign. 


Paris,  July  9,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

On  Sunday  I  wrote  you  at  intervals  pretty  much  all  day, 
and  now  I  have  lost  the  letter,  which  is  really  a  great  bore,  as 
it  is  so  difficult  to  write  the  same  thing  again. 

The  4th  celebration  in  Paris  made  that  day  a  never  to  be 
forgotten  one  to  those  who  were  privileged  to  take  part  in  the 
ceremonies.  For  a  week  before  we  watched  with  the  deepest 
interest  the  preparations  which  were  made  all  over  the  city,  in 
fact  all  over  France.  The  Stars  and  Stripes  decorated  every 
building,  you  know  how  beautifully  they  arrange  the  flags  in  the 
shields.  Our  flag  was  placed  in  the  center,  flanked  on  each  side 
by  French  flags.  To  our  delight  the  nurses  were  asked  by  the 
French  government  to  march  in  the  parade.  It  was  the  first 
time  women  have  ever  marched  in  a  parade  in  Paris.  We  formed 
in  the  Place  de  la  Trocadero  at  8:45  a.  m.  I  carried  the  flag, 
it  was  the  proudest  moment  of  my  life,  in  fact  don't  think  I 
ever  had  that  proud  feeling  before.  But  when  we  fell  in  line 
behind  the  Marines,  our  band  playing  Dixie  and  I  held  that  ban- 
ner on  high  to  the  cheers  of  the  crowd  "Vive  1'Amerique,"  I 
really  felt  that  I  had  reached  the  supreme  moment  of  my  life. 
You  can't,  or  I  rather  think  you  can,  imagine  the  exalted  sensa- 
tion of  marching  through  that  sea  of  cheering  people,  throwing 
flowers  before  us,  and  every  now  and  then  some  one  would  dart 
from  the  crowd,  saying:  "I  want  to  touch  that  flag,  I  love  it 
so, — the  flowers  are  for  it."  That  kind  of  thing  happened  not 
once  but  many  times.  Our  splendid  Marines  got  the  ovation 
they  deserved.  When  we  marched  by  the  grand  stand  where 
Joffre,  Clemenceau,  Lloyd-George,  and  the  President  were 
seated,  I  dipped  the  flag  following  the  instructions  of  an  army 
officer.  I  was  terribly  excited  doing  that  as  I  had  to  keep  step 
at  the  same  time,  count  spaces,  etc.,  and  see  the  flag  didn't 


104     INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

touch.  After  it  was  over  another  army  officer  told  me  that  I 
shouldn't  have  dipped  the  flag,  that  only  regimental  colors  were 
dipped,  not  the  flag, — it  got  dipped  anyway,  correct  or  not.  Miss 
Maxwell  marched  at  my  side  with  the  Red  Cross  flag.  She 
marched  like  a  young  girl,  we  did  not  disband  till  12  m.,  so  you 
see  it  was  very  fatiguing.  The  nurses  made  quite  a  good  ap- 
pearance, Norfolk  suits,  black  sailors  and  white  turn-over  col- 
lars, very  severe,  but  I  thought  very  dignified.  There  were  120, 
all  the  night  nurses  from  the  Paris  hospitals  and  our  Paris  dis- 
pensary nurses. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the  Ambassadeurs  Restaurant, 
Ave.  Gabrielle,  where  the  American  Fund  for  French  Wounded 
had  a  wonderful  entertainment  for  our  wounded,  they  were  all 
brought  in  ambulances  from  the  hospitals,  the  poor  fellows 
were  a  tragic  lot,  so  many  limbs  gone,  but  they  were  wonder- 
fully cheerful  and  so  gentle  and  tender  with  each  other.  Mrs. 
Lathrop  managed  it  all  beautifully,  she  is  a  most  capable  woman 
and  has  been  a  very  useful  friend  to  me. 

Miss  Maxwell  and  I  decided  to  finish  the  day  at  the  Char- 
maunt  Palace  where  a  mammoth  entertainment  was  given  for 
our  boys.  It  was  really  a  great  sight,  about  3,000  of  our  men 
packed  in  that  great  place,  an  American  band  playing  familiar 
airs  (familiar  to  them  not  to  me)  and  Elsie  Janis  (the  idol  of 
our  army)  stand  there  before  them  all,  telling  funny  stories, 
dancing  or  singing.  The  applause  would  nearly  raise  the  roof, 
it  was  deafening,  but  such  a  relief  after  the  tense  days  we  have 
all  been  through;  the  second  half  of  the  program  was  boxing, 
I  can't  say  I  enjoyed  it,  but  I  was  amused  at  Miss  Maxwell  who 
so  caught  the  spirit  of  the  occasion  that  she  sat  beside  me 
shouting  with  the  boys,  "That's  right,  give  it  to  him."  We  had 
a  little  dinner  before  going,  just  six  of  us  and  I  produced  the 
fruit  cake  you  sent  to  celebrate  with,  it  was  really  very  good 
in  spite  of  the  tin  and  we  all  enjoyed  it.  I  called  it  Porter's 
birthday  cake. 

The  next  morning  early  I  left  for  Dijon,  Miss  Maxwell  had 
left  for  Tours  before  my  return.  I  had  such  a  good  time  at 
Dijon  with  Loyall  Sewall  who  spent  two  days  with  me.  I  met 
his  Major  just  before  leaving  Paris  and  he  telegraphed  to 
Loyall,  who  is  stationed  in  that  vicinity,  two  days'  leave, — 
wasn't  it  fine?  He  looked  splendidly  and  is  in  the  best  of 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      105 

spirits.  I  will  enclose  a  letter  from  Dick,  which  I  think  also 
sounds  very  cheerful. 

I  am  saving  my  vacation,  hoping  to  be  able  to  join  him  in 
the  near  future  somewhere,  for  a  few  days.  We  are  supposed 
to  have  two  weeks'  vacation  at  the  end  of  every  six  months.  I 
have  taken  a  week  of  mine  when  I  went  to  the  hospital  at 
Neuilly.  I  don't  feel  the  need  of  it  but  would  like  a  few  days 
with  Dick. 

I  saw  Miss  Johnston  from  San  Francisco  at  Dijon.  I  lent 
her  to  the  canteen  there,  she  is  doing  fine  work. 


Paris,  July  10,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Such  a  good  batch  of  letters  yesterday — in  addition  to  the 
faithfuls  who  never  neglect  me  (you,  Camilla,  Linie  and  Mil- 
lie) one  from  Laura  McKinstry  and  Ethel  Beaver,  both  very 
characteristic  and  interesting.  I  remember  so  well  that  little 
boy  Purcell  Jones — he  used  to  play  in  the  most  fascinating  way 
with  the  pansies  in  his  garden;  I  am  sure  he  is  an  artist. 

All  that  you  write  me  of  the  Well  Babies  Clinic  is  deeply 
interesting.  Are  you  keeping  any  kind  of  statistics  so  that  we 
can  prove  that  we  have  reduced  the  death  rate  in  that  neighbor- 
hood? I  do  not  believe  it  would  be  possible  to  prove  this,  as 
I  doubt  if  the  San  Francisco  Vital  Statistics  are  kept  in  districts 
as  they  are  here. 

Most  of  our  nurses  are  in  the  French  hospitals  where  our 
men  are.  They  get  on  surprisingly  well;  the  public  health 
nurses  get  on  better  than  the  army  nurses  as  they  are  more 
adaptable.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  I  had  picked  out  a  nurse 
to  take  home  with  me?  Miss  Bears,  from  Waltham — she  is 
doing  splendid  work  now  in  the  Service  de  Sante.  I  am  sure 
Miss  Johnson  will  like  her.  Hope  the  salary  will  be  ready  for 
her  in  four  years.  One  year  of  that  five  I  came  for  has  passed 
— it  seems  like  ten. 

We  all  hope  for  a  fine  14th  celebration.  The  next  time  I 
march  with  that  flag  it  will  be  through  the  Arch  de  Triumph 
with  the  Kaiser  in  chains  at  my  side!  We  are  so  proud  of  the 
way  that  our  men  are  coming  over,  and  I  am  told  by  the 
quartermaster  that  our  army  is  self-supporting,  besides  having 


106  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

much  surplus  for  the  French.    In  truth  it  is  a  miracle  when  I 
think  of  how  impossible  all  declared  it  to  be. 

The  army  has  the  utmost  confidence  in  Pershing.  I  think 
it  is  so  wonderful  that  we  have  proved  again  (the  last  time  in 
'76)  that  it  does  not  take  years  of  military  training — the  neces- 
sity of  keeping  up  a  big  military  establishment — to  fight  success- 
fully for  right  and  win  against  veterans.  The  French  and  Eng- 
lish say  that  our  men  fight  just  as  well  as  the  seasoned  troops, 
and  with  much  more  enthusiasm.  Of  course  these  poor  fellows 
are  worn  out,  but  so  are  the  Germans.  Just  let  the  numbers 
keep  up  and  victory  is  in  sight — I  feel  sure  of  it  although  we 
probably  have  some  hard  days  ahead. 


The  following  letter  portrays  so  vividly  the  work  the  nurses 
and  aids  are  called  upon  ta  perform  that  it  is  inserted  here., 

Beauvais,  July  11,  1918. 
Dear  Miss  Ashe. 

I've  been  meaning  to  write  you  for  a  long  time  but  somehow 
its  about  all  I  can  accomplish  to  get  off  my  weekly  leter  to  the 
family.  There  is  so  much  to  do  when  work  is  over.  I  wish 
clean  collars  and  cuffs  would  grow  on  uniforms  during  the 
night. 

The  last  time  I  really  wrote  you  was  when  we  were  so  busy 
with  our  122  gassed.  As  they  began  to  be  evacuated  and  the 
work  let  up,  Miss  Christians  and  Miss  Hoadley  were  sent  to 
Field  12  so  Miss  Wilson  and  I  had  our  hands  full  again.  The 
night  of  the  28th  was  fearful  in  regard  to  bombs.  After  a 
second  attack  I  went  up  stairs  to  bed  but  was  no  sooner  in 
that  Madame  Jiller  called  me  to  say  that  a  brancardier  had 
come  to  say  they  wanted  me  at  the  hospital  at  once.  I  dressed 
and  went  out  into  the  inky  black  deserted  street.  I  will  have 
to  admit  that  I  ran  all  the  way  there  and  kept  my  head  more  or 
less  ducked  as  the  shrapnel  had  only  just  stopped  clattering  on 
the  street.  I  opened  the  door  of  the  entrance  room  and  by  the 
dim  light  of  one  shaded  lamp  saw  it  crowded  with  stretchers 
and  all  around  the  edge  wounded  sitting  up.  They  were  all 
Americans.  The  bombs  began  dropping  again  outside  and  I 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  107 

began  to  go  through  the  necessary  admitting  papers  for  them. 
Not  one  complained — I  was  so  proud  of  them  before  the  French 
clerks.  They  had  come  straight  from  the  front,  Cantigny, 
without  any  stop  at  a  field  hospital,  with  just  their  gory  first 
aid  dressings  on.  It  took  from  12:30  to  7:30  a.  m.  to  get  them 
all  done  and  that  was  working  perfectly  steadily.  More  kept 
filling  in  throughout  the  night. 

The  next  day  you  can  easily  imagine  that  we  were  busy. 
Miss  Wilson  had,  I  think,  twenty  new  gas  cases  whom  she  had 
not  only  to  dress  but  to  wash,  besides  her  old  ones  and  I  was 
running  from  one  place  to  another  interpreting,  of  course  had 
to  work  some  in  the  gas  ward.  One  boy  only  died  that  day. 
That  night  eleven  more  came  in  from  Field  12,  all  were  very 
bad  abdomen  and  chest  cases.  The  gas  boys  were  all  evacuated 
during  the  next  few  days  but  for  a  while  we  had  more  Ameri- 
cans than  they  did  at  the  American  Hospital.  Finally  there 
were  about  sixty-five  wounded  left,  scattered  through  all  the 
wards.  Miss  Wilson  went  on  night  duty  in  the  ward  with  the 
worst  ones.  Joll  Clark  took  a  whole  week  to  die  in  the  most 
awful  pain.  He  was  the  nicest,  bravest  boy  and  we  both  could 
hardly  bear  it.  All  his  last  night  he  called  Miss  Wilson 
"Mother."  She  kept  being  called  by  orderlies  from  other  wards 
for  different  patients  and  so  was  more  than  busy.  I  interpreted 
for  patients,  doctors  and  nurses,  till  I  really  didn't  know 
whether  I  was  speaking  French  or  English.  It  was  the  greatest 
satisfaction,  though,  to  be  able  to  get  them  fixed  up.  Sometimes 
the  smallest  things  which  they  wanted  but  couldn't  explain 
seemed  to  make  the  boys  perfectly  contented. 

Finally  by  the  llth  of  June  when  the  big  rush  of  French 
wounded  came,  there  were  only  five  Americans  left.  That  night 
Miss  Headley  and  Miss  Wilson  went  to  the  American  Hospital. 
I'd  been  on  during  the  day  but  everyone  was  so  swamped  with 
work  that  I  stayed  and  it  wasn't  until  5:30  a.  m.  that  we  got 
the  last  of  the  poor,  half-dead,  men  off  their  stretchers  and 
into  bed.  We  all  three  went  back  in  the  morning  and  washed 
them,  etc.  They  had  been  200  behind  in  the  operating  room  the 
night  before  so  you  can  imagine  the  condition  of  many  of  them. 
All  we'd  been  able  to  do  the  night  before  was  to  cut  their 
clothes  off  and  lift  them  into  bed.  There  was  one  American 
and  he  was  dying.  Miss  Headley  stayed  with  him  all  afternoon 


108  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

and  I  went  home  to  sleep.  Miss  Headley  and  Miss  Wilson  had 
to  be  on  call  again  for  the  American  Hospital  during  the  night, 
so  at  8  I  went  on  with  MacKenzie.  He  came  from  Lexington 
and  all  through  till  morning  when  he  wasn't  delirious  we  talked 
about  home.  He  died,  after  Miss  Headley  came  on,  at  7:30.  I 
felt  awfully  as  he  was  so  nice  and  very  pathetically  homesick. 

After  these  things  died  down,  we  had  about  a  week  with 
very  little  to  do,  when  Miss  B.  and  Miss  H.  and  Miss  W.  were 
suddenly  sent  off  to  Paris  and  I  was  left  very  much  alone,  but 
luckily  went  right  to  work  at  No.  14  at  the  top  of  the  hill  and 
was  very  much  occupied,  being  day  nurse  for  three  boys,  two 
Americans  and  one  Frenchman.  They  told  me  all  three  were 
probably  going  to  die,  but  thank  goodness  they  didn't.  After 
a  week  Miss  Candish  and  I  changed  and  I  was  on  night  duty 
there  for  five  nights  when  as  they  didn't  need  me  any  more  I 
took  Mrs.  Clarke's  place  on  night  duty  at  the  American  Hospi- 
tal. There  I  am  now  and  probably  will  be  until  August.  I  am 
very  flourishing  and  happy  and  my  only  cross  is  that  I  can 
never  seem  to  rid  myself  of  the  smell  of  Dakins.  I  have  to 
inject  it  every  two  hours  all  night  and  get  so  saturated  that  I 
have  to  use  cologne  before  going  to  bed  in  the  morning.  I 
have  twelve  boys  and  like  them  all  and  as  they  all  seem  to  be 
improving,  the  ward  is  more  cheerful  every  day. 

I  hear  you  carried  out  your  plan  of  nursing  through  your 
vacation.  I'm  sure  you  must  have  loved  it  but  hope  you're 
getting  a  little  rest  in  somewhere  on  the  side.  There  was 
nothing  very  restful  about  the  office  as  I  remember  it. 

How  is  Miss  Weaver,  and  also  Miss  Hawley  and  all  the  rest? 
Give  them  my  best  love.  Perhaps  when  this  night  duty  is  over 
I'll  get  a  day  or  two  in  Paris  and  can  come  and  see  you  all. 
Will  you  come  to  a  meal  at  Pruniers  with  me? 

I  must  stop  and  get  dressed.  Nothing  I  can  say  can  tell 
you  how  glad  I've  been  to  be  here  for  these  two  months. 
Thank  you  a  hundred  times  for  sending  me. 

Looking  forward  to  seeing  you  at  the  end  of  the  month, 

Affectionately, 

FRANCES  WEBSTER. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  109 


Paris,  July  14,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  is  to  be  a  great  day.  I  am  at  present  in  a  room  at  the 
Red  Cross,  just  on  the  corner  of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  and 
the  Rue  Royale.  We  have  a  splendid  view — the  Madelaine  and 
the  Place.  The  crowd  is  immense  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Paris 
is  supposed  to  be  empty.  Everyone  seems  excited  and  jubilant 
— one  would  think  a  big  victory  was  being  celebrated.  A  dele- 
gation has  just  passed  bearing  a  big  wreath  to  be  placed  on  the 
Alsace  Lorraine  Statue.  Miss  Maxwell  is  with  me  and  as  en- 
thusiastic as  a  young  girl — she  is  so  satisfactory  to  do  things 
with. 

Some  day  we  will  all  be  celebrating  the  final  victory — will 
it  bring  the  world  peace?  I  doubt  it.  It  will  just  bring  about 
a  long  exhausted  period  of  rest  when  strength  will  be  stored 
for  a  future  combat.  This  sounds  pessimistic,  but  I  begin  to 
believe  that  it  is  inherent  in  man  to  fight. 


Later. 

The  parade  has  passed,  and  we  have  cheered  and  shouted 
until  we  are  exhausted.  There  seemed  to  be  some  special 
reason  for  cheering  each  company  as  it  passed  by,  and  a  French 
girl  expressed  our  feelings  when  she  darted  from  under  the 
arm  of  the  gendarmes,  and  kissed  each  standard-bearer.  The 
English,  American,  Italian,  Poles,  Serbs,  Greeks,  Australians, 
Canadians,  New  Zealanders,  and  even  Portuguese  made  up  the 
parade.  Of  course  flowers  were  freely  given;  the  poilus  were 
literally  laden,  their  knapsacks  full  and  bunches  on  the  ends  of 
bayonets — our  men  are  not  allowed  to  carry  them.  The  Eng- 
lish marched  the  best  and  they  made  a  splendid  showing. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  to  the  Trocadero  where  a  big 
patriotic  meeting  was  held.  Twelve  of  our  aids  helped  sell 
programs.  Viviani  was  the  orator  of  the  day,  and  most  of  the 
program  was  taken  up  with  eulogies  of  America.  I  was  terribly 
disappointed  in  the  singing  of  the  Marseillaise  at  the  end. 
There  was  an  immense  crowd,  and  I  expected  something  stir- 
ring, but  no  one  joined  in  with  chorus  who  sat  on  the  stage, 


110  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

and  a  group  of  Frenchmen  behind  me  talked  all  the  time  the 
soloist  was  singing  it. 

All  night  last  night  we  could  hear  the  big  guns  at  the  front 
and  Big  Bertha  has  been  shelling  us  all  day.  I  have  not  heard 
what  damage  has  been  done — people  pay  very  little  attention 
to  it.  Now  that  the  moon  is  visiting  us  again  I  suppose  the 
air  raids  will  begin. 


Paris,  July  18,  1918. 
To  L.  McL. 

Yesterday  I  wrote  you  a  letter  so  this  will  be  just  a  few 
lines  to  tell  you  that  Mary  Eyre  met  a  man  from  Dick's  regi- 
ment yesterday  and  that  he  gave  a  fine  report  of  Dick,  had 
seen  him  the  day  before  and  that  he  is  up  for  his  lieutenantcy, 
had  passed  his  physical  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  doubt  about 
the  result  of  the  mental.  I  hope  he  gets  a  leave  soon.  I  am 
saving  mine  to  join  him  somewhere. 

I  have  had  such  sweet  letters  from  the  Farm  children  telling 
me  about  my  birthday.  Porter  was  there,  took  the  children 
some  candy.  Frank,  Mrs.  Griffith's  chauffeur,  gave  the  children 
a  phonograph  in  honor  of  the  day.  Wasn't  that  touching? 
One  little  girl  wrote  me  "You  do  not  know  me,  but  I  wish  to 
thank  you  for  the  book  you  sent  me  and  tell  you  what  a  lovely 
time  we  had  at  your  party,  but  the  day  seemed  out  of  place 
without  you."  Wasn't  that  charmingly  expressed?  Little  Ca- 
mille  wrote  such  a  nice  letter  and  Patsy,  with  his  poor  little 
crippled  hands,  writes  remarkably  well.  I  like  to  think  of  them 
all  having  such  happy  times  on  the  Farm.  I  wonder  how  long 
it  will  be  before  I  wander  through  the  vegetable  garden  with 
Camille  expounding  the  wonders  of  it  to  me;  no  vegetables 
here  taste  so  good  as  those.  The  artichokes  are  impossible, 
huge,  big  old  things  impossible  to  eat  anything  but  the  heart. 
The  peaches  and  cherries  are  delicious,  the  rest  of  the  fruit 
poor  and  so  expensive,  strawberries  (large  ones  very  tasteless) 
were  one  franc  a  piece,  season  very  short,  there  were  none  in 
the  markt  after  June  20th  and  peaches  5  francs  a  piece  at  small 
places,  3  at  the  cheaper.  I  bought  none,  they  are  cheaper  now, 
1  franc.  Food  is  very  plentiful,  but  very  high,  3  meatless  days, 
very  little  sugar,  otherwise  all  you  want  if  you  pay  for  it.  It 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  111 

costs  us  $100  per  month  to  live,  hotel  and  laundry,  we  wash 
small  pieces. 

We  hear  that  the  boys  in  this  battle  are  not  so  badly 
wounded  as  the  Marines  were  in  May. 

American  Ambulance,  Neuilly,  July  21,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  is  just  a  line  to  tell  you  that  I  am  too  rushed  to  write. 
I  volunteered  out  here  at  the  American  Ambulance  yesterday, 
Sunday,  and  came  out  this  morning  at  7  a.  m.,  taking  French 
leave  from  the  office.  If  I  am  shot  at  dawn  for  deserting  I 
intend  to  look  after  our  wounded  instead  of  well  baby  clinics. 
I  dragged  all  the  nurses  into  it  Saturday  I  could  possibly  lay 
hands  on,  have  persuaded  all  the  women  doctors  to  give  ether 
(they  are  only  too  glad  to  do  it).  The  doctors  are  working 
night  and  day,  2,800  men  passed  through. 

I  am  waiting  now  for  a  telephone  message.  On  Saturday  I 
went  up  towards  the  front  in  an  ambulance  to  bring  back  a 
wounded  nurse.  We  had  a  fearful  trip,  it  took  us  three  and  a 
half  hours  to  get  back,  we  arrived  at  1:30  a.  m.,  the  patient 
perfectly  exhausted,  but  so  plucky.  I  couldn't  get  a  word  out 
of  her,  all  those  hours,  when  sometimes  she  was  nearly  jolted 
off  the  stretcher,  but  "I  am  all  right,  it  is  nothing  compared 
with  what  the  badly  wounded  suffer."  She  was  wounded  in  the 
back,  not  seriously.  When  I  tell  you  that  I  rode  in  that  ambu- 
lance for  11  hours,  with  one  half  hour  off  for  dinner  and  was 
not  dead  tired  when  I  got  home,  you  can  know  that  I  have 
some  pep  left  in  me  yet. 

I  just  ran  out  to  see  a  battle  in  the  air,  a  day  raid  from  the 
Boche,  but  couldn't  see  much,  just  flashes. 

The  spirit  is  simply  wonderful  among  the  boys,  coming  and 
going,  they  are  always  cheerful,  smiling  and  joking  all  the  time; 
every  one  is  crazy  about  them,  and  now  they  are  all  so  excited 
and  eager  to  get  back,  as  every  little  while  news  of  victory 
comes  in,  if  we  can  only  keep  it  up,  pushing  back  steadily.  But 
we  must  be  content  with  every  gain  and  not  expect  to  keep 
up  this  big  effort,  all  of  the  allies  except  ourselves  are  to 
exhausted,  I  fear.  The  men  say  that  a  number  of  Hun  women 
have  been  captured,  one  a  Captain,  it  seems  incredible,  but  one 
believes  almost  anything,  it  is  all  so  impossible. 


112  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 


Later. 


The  wounded  continue  to  pour  in  night  and  day,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  handle  them  properly.  I  am  on  duty  in  the  receiving 
ward  (a  big  garage  which  holds  about  100  stretchers,  packed 
so  closely  together  you  can't  step  between).  I  try  to  make  the 
men  a  little  more  comfortable  by  feeding  them  and  poking 
little  pillows  under  aching  wounds  to  keep  them  off  the  iron 
bars  of  stretchers,  bless  those  foolish  little  pillows,  nothing 
gives  more  comfort.  We  never  hear  a  complaint  night  or  day, 
just  smiling  thanks,  it  is  so  wonderful,  a  big  Red  Cross  man 
told  me  their  smiles  made  him  cry;  many  are  only  looked  over 
and  sent  on.  We  can't  keep  any  but  serious  cases,  an  ampu- 
tated case,  if  in  good  condition  is  not  considered  serious. 


(The  writer  of  the  following  is  the  nurse  from  Waltham 
mentioned  in  Miss  Ashe's  leters.) 

July  22,  1918. 
My  dear  Miss  Ashe. 

If  we  continue  to  have  as  interesting  a  time  as  at  present, 
we  shall  all  be  completely  demoralized  as  far  as  going  back  to 
Paris  is  concerned.  Did  you  know  that  our  Beauvais  formation 
split  in  two  sections  a  week  ago— one-half  to  stay  there  and 
the  other  half  to  form  a  flying  squadron  to  go  wherever  the 
need  was  greatest?  I  was  forunate  enough  to  be  assigned  to 
the  half  that  was  flying,  and  we  have  had  the  most  interesting 
time.  We  took  equipment  enough,  even  to  a  chef,  to  start  a 
hospital  and  came  by  camions  to  Chantilly,  where  we  joined  a 
French  auto  chir  and  although  we  are  off  in  our  own  corner, 
we  work  along  with  them. 

We  are  to  stay  here  as  long  as  the  blesses  come  in  from  this 
front  and  when  they  stop  we  are  either  to  go  back  to  Beauvais 
or  to  move  on  where  the  work  is  heavier.  It's  a  wonderful 
experience  and  we  love  the  sort  of  gypsy  life  we  lead.  With 
this  heavenly  weather  it's  a  joy  to  work  out  under  the  trees 
and  practically  live  out  of  doors. 

The  wards  are  under  canvas  and  we  have  put  up  a  small 
portable  operating  room.  We  bought  the  equipment  from  Beau- 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  113 

vais  and  it  is  the  cutest  place.  It  rocks  and  shakes  like  a  boat 
when  we  are  working  there,  but  "ca  ne  fait  rien" — for  the  boys 
are  being  rushed  through  with  real  American  speed  and  we 
know  that  the  doctors  have  saved  a  great  deal  of  gas  gangrene. 
The  first  cases  we  did  were  nearly  all  infected  with  g.  g. 
because  they  had  been  lying  out  in  the  fields  for  several  days 
up  at  the  front.  But  now  they  are  getting  them  down  quicker, 
and  by  keeping  at  it  every  minute  we  keep  up  with  the  proces- 
sion and  the  boys  do  not  have  to  wait  around  all  day  before 
getting  attention.  We  are  on  eight-hour  shifts,  and  everyone 
is  keeping  remarkably  fresh  and  fit.  Twenty  nurses  came  down 
from  Paris  and  joined  us  and  fifteen  more  went  to  Beauvais 
to  take  our  places  there,  for  after  we  left  they  had  a  large  con- 
voy come  in.  I  have  done  nothing  but  anesthetizing  ever  since 
I  joined  Dr.  Moorhead's  formation,  and  it  is  a  wonderful  ex- 
perience, although  a  bit  out  of  my  line. 

Have  you  been  up  to  Chantilly?  It  is  quite  the  prettiest 
town  I  have  seen  in  France  and  the  Chateau  de  Chantilly  is  a 
beautiful  place.  The  park  surrounding  it  covers  miles  of  forest 
and  the  vistas  through  the  bridle  paths  and  walks  are  the  work 
of  a  genius.  But  you  can't  get  away  from  the  war  even  there 
for  there  are  several  auto  chirs  on  the  open  fields  and  ambu- 
lances are  chasing  in  and  out  every  minute.  Also,  thousands  of 
German  prisoners  march  through  every  day  or  so,  and  some 
have  come  into  us  as  patients. 

Our  boys  are  elated  over  their  success  and  their  stories  are 
thrilling.  I  rather  hate  to  see  them  so  blood  thirsty,  for  the 
height  of  their  ambition  is  to  get  a  Boche,  but  their  enthusiasm 
can't  help  but  be  infectious  and  the  French  love  it. 

Very  sincerely, 

ELMIRA  W.  BEARS. 


114  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Paris,  July  29,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Yesterday  being  Sunday  I  didn't  have  a  moment  in  which  to 
write  you  even  a  line,  this  nursing  business  is  fatal  to  Sunday 
letters.  I  leave  so  early  in  the  morning  that  letters  before  are 
impossible,  and  by  night  I  am  so  dead  tired  that  it  is  a  physical 
impossibility.  But  yesterday  I  had  a  very  pleasant  change,  the 
work  was  not  nearly  so  heavy  as  all  of  our  corridor  patients 
were  evacuated  and  an  aide  was  sent  to  help  me.  So  I  left  early 
in  time  to  be  able  to  have  a  hot  restful  bath  before  going  to 
dine  at  Colonel  Cutcheon's  apartment,  where  he  keeps  house 
most  luxuriously  with  three  other  men.  Colonel  Cutcheon  is  one 
of  Mr.  Byrne's  partners,  the  whole  firm  (also  Mr.  Carl  Taylor, 
a  very  fine  man),  calmly  packed  up  and  came  over,  leaving  the 
law  business  to  get  on  as  best  it  may.  Walter  Damrosch  was 
there  at  dinner  and  I  don't  know  when  I  have  had  such  an 
interesting  time.  We  discussed  all  the  problems  of  the  uni- 
verse. Helen  and  I  were  the  only  women,  it  was  a  real  treat 
to  hear  those  interesting  intelligent  men  talk  freely  of  funda- 
mentals. I  decided  not  to  go  to  the  hospital  this  morning,  as 
Dr.  Lucas  returned  Saturday  and  there  are  important  matters 
which  must  be  taken  up  with  him. 

There  is  one  comfort  about  things  over  here,  it  shows  people 
up  in  their  true  colors  and  if  one  only  has  patience,  the  dross 
is  swept  away  in  time,  for  the  men  at  the  head  are  very  fine 
types  and  don't  stand  for  what  is  not  right. 

Dr.  Lucas  was  welcomed  with  open  arms  and  such  a  sigh 
of  relief.  He  looks  splendidly  and  has  told  me  so  much  about 
home  and  you.  He  was  delighted  with  his  lunch  on  the  Hill 
and  says  Armand  de  Lillie  was  much  impressed  by  the  Farm. 
Barbara  writes  me  that  you  are  going  to  abbreviate  the  chil- 
dren's clothes  for  the  sun  treatment, — it  really  should  be  done, 
the  results  from  that  are  quite  wonderful.  I  want  to  go  into  it 
really  scientifically  when  I  return.  I  hope  to  be  able  to  visit 
the  famous  Switzerland  place  where  the  children  are  practically 
naked  in  the  snow.  I  was  very  much  interested  in  all  you 
wrote  about  the  Lucas'  visit. 

He  was  very  much  impressed  by  the  work  being  done 
on  the  Hill  and  thinks  it  would  be  all  wrong  for  Miss 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  115 

Johnson  to  leave  it.  I  feel  quite  sure  that  the  military  necessity 
has  not  come  yet  for  her  and  I  doubt  if  she  could  stand  the 
strain.  Of  course  her  value  would  be  in  giving  ether,  but  the 
strain  in  that  work  is  terrific,  they  have  to  work  at  times  several 
days  and  nights  without  rest  and  it  is  so  harrowing.  I  find  the 
work  perfectly  exhausting,  the  men  suffer  so  and  it  is  so  diffi- 
cult to  give  them  any  relief  whenever  a  limb  is  either  shatered 
or  badly  wounded.  I  have  a  boy  who  has  a  compound  fracture 
of  tibia — wounds  in  both  legs,  both  above  and  below  the  knees 
and  has  been  burned  by  mustard  gas  over  the  greater  part  of 
his  back,  which  is  raw — he  simply  has  to  lie  on  his  back  on 
account  of  his  arm  which  is  suspended  by  a  frame;  there  are 
hundreds  of  this  type  of  case  in  the  hospital;  one  nurse  has 
charge  of  65  patients  with  3  aides  to  help  her.  I  have  really 
been  taking  the  place  of  an  aide  as  I  am  too  uncertain  to  be 
put  in  charge  of  a  big  ward  or  floor.  I  did  manage  last  week 
to  get  my  15  patients  bathed,  which  was  a  relief  as  they  had  not 
had  a  bath  since  before  the  battle.  I  just  couldn't  stand  it  and 
made  a  herculean  effort  which  nearly  killed  me,  but  I  feel  well 
repaid,  it  was  too  dreadful  to  have  those  filthy  men  in  bed.  But 
I  feel  as  if  I  could  never  more  complain  of  any  physical  pain 
after  seeing  what  the  men  suffer  in  silence,  of  course  there  is 
always  an  occasional  one  who  complains  and  does  not  bear  it 
well,  but  the  others  have  so  much  contempt  for  him  that  he  is 
soon  reduced  to  silence;  they  don't  hesitate  to  express  their 
opinions  in  forcible  language,  brutally  frank.  Some  poor  weak 
fellow  will  be  groaning  and  moaning  and  he  is  told  to  get  a 
bottle  with  a  nipple  and  suck  it  or  some  such  comforting  thing. 
I  feel  awfully  sorry  for  the  man  with  little  grit,  he  does  not  have 
an  easy  time. 

Mary  Eyre  comes  out  to  distribute  cigaretes,  she  seems  to 
like  her  work.  I  saw  Masie  Hammond  and  Sarah  Cunningham 
at  Juiy  when  I  went  for  our  wounded  nurse,  they  both  seemed 
well  and  doing  good  work.  Everyone  says  that  the  aides  I 
have  trained  are  the  finest  workers  in  France.  I  am  awfully 
proud  of  them,  because  I  have  always  made  a  point  of  getting 
into  the  closest  possible  personal  relations  with  them  and  im- 
pressing on  them  the  fact  that  the  whole  aide  situation  would 
be  judged  by  their  conduct;  they  do  whatever  they  are  told  to 
do  wihout  question  and  I  think  are  a  very  remarkable  group  of 


116     INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

young  women.  The  nurses  are  a  little  jealous  of  my  interest 
in  them  but  I  felt  that  I  must  make  a  great  effort  to  prove  their 
value. 


Paris,  August  2,  1918. 
To  E.  S. 

Such  a  good  letter  come  from  you  yesterday  and  I  hasten 
to  answer  it  as  I  have  an  unexpected  half  hour  this  morning 
before  going  to  the  hospital.  As  Miss  Griffith  has  told  you  I 
have  an  erratic  way  of  suddenly  leaving  my  bureau  at  the  call 
of  the  wounded  and  appearing  unexpectedly  at  the  hospital,  at 
the  critical  moment,  where  I  am  greeted  with  open  arms.  Then 
I  come  back  so  dead  tired  at  the  end  of  a  week  or  so  that  no 
one  has  the  heart  to  scold  me.  But  to  sit  in  that  office  dic- 
tating letters,  knowing  that  those  poor  boys  are  actually  suffer- 
ing for  the  most  rudimentary  care,  is  beyond  my  powers  of  en- 
durance. When  Dr.  Lucas  returned  Saturday,  I  was  not  there 
and  the  first  tale  of  complaint  he  heard  was  of  me.  But  of 
course  being  a  big-hearted  red-blooded  man  he  said  "that's  fine, 
it's  just  right."  I  must  say  I  was  relieved  because  one  hates  to 
appear  insubordinate  and  irresponsible.  Now  that  I  have  his 
sanction  I  can  really  do  both  things  better.  I  try  to  get  to  the 
office  for  an  hour  or  two  every  day,  which  keeps  things  moving 
very  smoothly.  My  secretary  is  a  brilliant  jewel — only  twenty- 
one  years  old  and  so  clever  and  attractive. 

One  of  the  doctors  has  just  come  in  to  tell  me  that  a  train^ 
load  of  wounded  came  in  last  night  which  means  that  350  men 
have  been  brought  to  the  hospital  and  are  lying  in  all  stages 
of  discomfort  over  the  floors,  lawns,  corridors  and  in  fact 
wherever  they  can  find  floor  space  for  them  as  they  have  to  be 
undressed,  fed  and  many  things  done  for  them  before  they 
find  rest.  They  usually  arrive  on  the  stretchers  without  pillows, 
their  heads  resting  on  the  iron  cross  bars.  The  suffering  these 
poor  fellows  go  through  absolutely  without  a  complain  is  heroic 
beyond  words.  I  can't  get  used  to  it,  it  is  all  I  can  do  to  con- 
trol myself  as  I  kneel  beside  them  tucking  those  little  pillows 
under  their  poor  shattered  bodies. 

I  must  tell  you  of  a  remarkable  incident  which  occurred  here 
last  week  when  the  big  offensive  began.  A  number  of  Red 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE      117 

Cross  workers  were  at  the  station  receiving  the  wounded — giv- 
ing them  water  and  comforting  them  as  they  waited  to  be 
moved  to  the  hospital.  Mrs.  Bacon  was  leaning  over  a  boy 
helping  him,  when  she  heard  a  feeble  voice  behind  her  call 
"Mother"  and  turning  she  found  her  own  boy  lying  there.  I 
am  sure  that  meeting  started  a  wave  of  homesickness  through 
these  fallen  ranks.  Mrs.  Bacon  went  to  the  hospital  with  her 
boy,  left  him  there  and  returned  to  her  post  for  the  rest  of  the 
day. 

I  really  must  go  to  the  hospital.  Please  thank  Mrs.  Heller 
again  for  the  money,  some  day  soon,  I  am  going  to  have  Miss 
Byrne  make  out  a  little  statement  of  some  of  the  people  we 
help.  I  hope  people  will  not  mind  my  very  erratic  way  of 
helping,  but  I  give  at  the  time  when  I  feel  the  need  is  greatest, 
most  unscientifically.  I  feel  sometimes  like  Mr.  Bender  who 
said  once  that  he  looked  first  up  the  street  to  see  if  Miss  Felton 
was  in  sight,  then  down  for  Miss  Pexiotto  before  giving  a  man 
a  quarter  for  a  mealt 


Paris,  August  5,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

Yesterday  I  had  a  day  off,  the  first  in  many  weeks.  I  went 
to  the  hospital  as  usual  at  7  a.  m.,  but  found  I  was  not  needed, 
as  twenty  nurses  had  most  unexpectedly  appeared.  I  was  glad 
as  I  was  pretty  tired,  and  besides  wanted  to  go  to  the  anni- 
versary service  at  the  English  Ambassador's  church.  I  gathered 
up  quite  a  party  to  go  with  us,  including  Helen  Cheseborough. 
It  was  a  wonderful  service.  I  like  the  service  always  at  that 
church  better  than  any  service  I  have  attended  for  years — it  is 
so  hearty — generally  more  men  than  women,  who  lift  up  their 
voices  and  pray  and  sing  as  if  they  meant  it.  They  all  sing 
through  the  entire  service,  even  the  Te  Deum. 

Well,  yesterday  the  church  was  packed  and  when  those  men 
sang  "Onward,  Christian  Soldiers,"  after  a  splendid  sermon 
from  an  army  chaplain  who  always  goes  over  the  top  with  the 
boys,  the  roof  nearly  came  off,  and  cold  shivers  went  up  and 
down  my  back.  You  should  have  heard  them  shout  "On  to 
victory!"  If  you  could  have  had  any  doubt  of  the  ultimate 
result,  then  and  there  it  must  have  been  dispelled — those  grim 


118  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

looking  men  never  mean  to   stop  until  they  have  triumphed 
over  the  powers  of  darkness! 

The  chaplain  was  a  wonder — he  actually  swore  several  times, 
but  made  me  take  an  oath  never  again  to  express  the  slightest 
doubt  but  that  complete  victory  would  end  war  for  all  time 
among  civilized  nations.  I  will  in  future  hold  to  that  thought 
even  if  I  know  it  can  not  be. 


Coincy,  August  10,  1918. 
My  dear  Miss  Ashe. 

I  was  so  pleased  to  receive  your  letter  this  morning  and 
to  seem  to  get  in  touch  with  you  once  more.  I  am  so  sorry 
not  to  have  seen  you  in  Paris,  for  I  think  this  last  move  is  a 
more  permanent  one,  and  unless  our  boys  keep  up  this  wonder- 
ful chase  and  leave  us  miles  behind,  we  are  apt  to  "rester  ici" 
until  fall. 

This  last  move  has  been  quite  thrilling.  We  came  across 
country  in  camions — about  30  miles  and  the  ride  was  a  con- 
tinuous change  of  "war  scenery,"  starting  through  the  villages 
which  the  Germans  invaded  in  1914,  the  ruins  being  covered 
now  with  vines  and  flowers,  and  the  inhabitants  taking  up  the 
old  routine  of  life  once  more  in  a  protected  corner  of  their 
homes, — and  passing  on  to  the  district  that  the  Germans  have 
made  their  homes  for  months, — through  miles  of  screened 
roads,  acres  of  barbed  wire  entanglements,  trenches  and  dug- 
outs— and  finally  into  the  region  where  the  Americans  have 
swept  all  before  them  these  last  four  weeks.  We  were  so 
covered  with  dust  that  under  ordinary  circumstances  we  should 
have  been  cross  and  uncomfortable,  but  I  felt  much  more  in 
tune  with  my  surrounding,  with  my  face  stiff  and  my  beloved 
(?)  blue  coat  a  beautiful  grey.  Only  my  eyes  were  free  and  I 
saw  to  it  that  there  was  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  my  "seeing 
history."  We  stopped  long  enough  to  inspect  the  most  wonder- 
ful dugouts — long  underground  passages  and  tiny  rooms,  all 
solidly  built  and  fine  examples  of  German  thoroughness,  but 
the  last  occupants  were  Americans. 

We  found  one  group  of  25  graves,  all  Massachusetts  boys, 
who  were  buried  within  two  weeks.  The  roads  are  covered 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  119 

with  unexploded  hand  grenades  and  shells,  and  you  truly 
"watch  your  step"  when  you  are  sight-seeing. 

Chateau  Thierry  is  a  pathetic  sight — a  city  completely 
ruined  but  simply  teeming  with  life, — the  American  army.  Every- 
where in  this  region  it  is  a  rare  sight  to  see  anyone  but  an 
American,  except  the  French  troops  leaving  this  front  for 
another,  and  even  though  we  read  the  papers  and  know  that 
our  boys  are  pouring  into  the  country  we  simply  can't  believe 
our  eyes,  for  we  have  seen  them  pass  for  hours  and  hours  both 
ways,  and  every  nook  and  corner  is  filled  with  them.  We  have 
an  ambulance  corps  of  110  men  with  our  formation,  all  from 
the  South.  We  talked  with  groups  all  the  way  up  and  our 
Massachusetts  men  are  all  around  us,  so  I  shall  not  be  sur- 
prised to  see  someone  I  know  only  I  hope  he  won't  be  on  a 
stretcher,  with  bullets  and  eclats  to  be  hunted  for. 

We  ran  to  one  side  of  the  road  once  to  allow  four  of  our 
boys,  all  mounted,  to  pass  with  a  long  line  of  German  prison- 
ers. It  was  a  wonderful  moment,  we  couldn't  cheer  for  it 
seemed  too  impressive,  the  boys  were  so  characteristically 
American  and  so  proud  of  their  job  and  they  solemnly  saluted 
us.  It  seemed  so  significant  of  what  the  near  future  surely 
holds  for  us,  our  lively  young  Americans,  full  of  life  and  vitality, 
can  spell  but  one  word  to  these  stolid,  tired  German  boys,  and 
they  looked  as  if  they  fully  realized  it. 

We  shall  still  be  some  days  organizing,  but  we  are  putting 
up  a  tent  hospital  for  800  beds  and  most  of  our  personnel  is 
here  and  will  be  reinforced  at  once,  of  course.  We  still  have 
a  small  group  both  at  Beauvais  and  Chantilly,  but  this  will  be 
a  small  city  when  we  are  fully  equipped.  We  are  only  12  miles 
from  the  front  and  at  night  we  can  see  the  flash  from  the  guns 

and  the  artillery  signals.  The  guns  always  seem  loud  at  B 

but  they  actually  keep  us  awake  up  here,  and  we  find  ourselves 
getting  all  stirred  up  and  unable  to  sleep  when  we  know  it  is 
our  Americans  who  are  up  there  a  few  miles  beyond  hammer- 
ing away. 

This  field  we  are  on  was  a  battle  field  not  more  than  two 
weeks  ago  and  we  came  here  in  time  to  see  some  unmistak- 
able signs  of  a  hurried  retreat,  loads  of  ammunition,  two  beauti- 
fully camouflaged  machine  guns,  some  forgotten  Boches  and 
horses  and  all  sorts  of  souvenirs — helmets,  bayonets,  guns,  etc. 


120  INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

Yesterday  p.  m.  three  of  the  girls  took  shovels  and  actually 
went  up  on  the  hill  and  buried  one  unfortunate — or  perhaps 
fortunate  Boche,  and  even  put  up  the  regulation  cross  over 
him.  The  roads  and  country  are  simply  peppered  with  shell 
holes  and  there  isn't  a  whole  house  for  miles.  Some  of  the 
houses  have  been  utterly  wrecked,  even  the  faces  cut  out  of  the 
portraits. 

We  have  a  heavenly  view  from  our  hill,  miles  and  miles  of 
rolling  country,  with  long  roads  like  ribbons  winding  in  and 
out  among  the  hills,  always  in  motion  with  long  lines  of  troops 
and  supplies,  blue  coming  down  and  khaki  going  in.  The  boys 
from  an  aviation  camp  near  start  oft7  in  squadrons,  go  over  the 
lines  and  in  a  few  hours  we  count  them  as  they  come  back. 
It  is  just  as  well  that  we  have  a  few  days  here  to  get  our 
equilibrium  or  we  should  have  a  sad  time  trying  to  work  and 
not  miss  anything  at  the  same  time.  Our  ambulance  boys  are 
inside  the  tent  we  have  been  leaning  up  against,  entertaining  us 
with  Southern  songs,  accompanied  by  a  mandoline  and  some- 
times a  violin.  They  are  great  and  we  are  between  hysterics 
at  their  camp  songs  and  tears  at  some  of  our  old  home  songs. 
It's  a  bit  distracting  for  my  letter  but  it  seems  so  good  to  be 
"all- American'*  once  more.  What  a  change  from  last  year  is 
the  present  routine  life  and  business  of  our  nation! 

Last  night  some  of  us  walked  over  a  few  miles  to  see  one 
of  the  placements  where  "Big  Bertha"  held  forth  for  a  while. 
It  is  a  marvelous  piece  of  work — exactly  like  a  railway  turn- 
table, with  a  well  built  track  up  to  it,  and  it  is  so  heavy  that 
their  attempts  to  blow  it  up  before  they  left  it  only  curled  up 
the  corners.  Everything  about  it  was  well  camouflaged  and 
there  is  a  guard  over  it.  About  100  of  our  boys  arrived  about 
the  same  time  we  did  and  among  them  was  one  who  came 
form  a  mobile  unit  near  us  and  he  said  Miss  Evans  was  here. 
Dr.  Woodroffe  will  remember  her  last  winter  at  the  Royal  on 
her  way  South  on  account  of  chillblains.  I  am  going  to  look 
her  up  this  evening. 

Signed    E.    B. 


INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE  121 

Paris,  August  12,  1918. 
To  A.  G. 

This  has  been  a  very  quiet,  uneventful  week  for  me,  although 
"Big  Bertha"  has  kept  things  a  little  lively.  I  spent  one  day 
inspecting  a  very  interesting  place  for  delicate  children  near 
Paris  at  Hachette.  It  is  really  four  places,  a  hospital  for  chil- 
dren where  they  are  kept  for  ten  days  before  going  either  to 
the  convalescent  home  or  the  hospital,  and  then  a  big  place 
with  150  beds  for  convalescent  or  delicate  children.  The  latter 
is  being  run  by  Miss  Dabney.  She  is  doing  well  at  Hachette. 
She  is  a  very  fine  capable  woman  and  I  am  glad  she  is  there. 

But  I  must  tell  you  about  Mrs.  Post,  who  is  here  from  Mor- 
laix.  She  has  developed  her  work  wonderfully  since  I  was 
there  last  year,  and  quite  cheered  me  by  telling  me  that  I  had 
been  a  real  help.  She  tells  me  that  she  carried  out  all  my  ideas 
even  to  pruning  the  trees.  You  see,  I  arrived  just  as  she  was 
about  to  build  expensive  shelters  for  the  children  when  I 
showed  her  how  she  could  get  splendid  results  with  her  plant 
just  as  it  was.  She  quickly  took  the  idea  and  says  it  has  worked 
ideally.  She  has  even  introduced  pottery  at  my  suggestion. 
This  had  become  a  lost  art.  She  is  having  the  tubercular 
women  make  it,  and  says  it  is  a  great  success — that  they  make 
lovely  shapes.  I  was  really  awfully  pleased  about  it,  as  although 
I  enjoyed  my  trip  to  Brittany  more  than  anything  I  have  done 
since  I  have  been  here,  I  felt  that  it  had  been  a  waste  of  time. 
Mrs.  Post  has  seventy  children  in  her  day  camp.  She  says 
that  the  improvement  in  them  is  marvellous.  She  also  has  a 
hospital,  and  dispensaries  scattered  all  throughout  Finisterre. 

I  am  going  to  start  out  tonight  on  a  tour  of  inspection,  and 
expect  to  travel  pretty  steadily  this  next  month.  I  go  today  to 
Blois,  and  Friday  to  Sermaise,  which  is  not  far  from  Chalons. 
Yesterday  I  had  a  very  quiet,  restful  time;  we  got  an 
old  fiacre,  took  a  guide  book,  and  spent  the  afternoon  sight- 
seeing in  a  leisurely  manner.  I  think  it  did  us  all  good  .  It  is 
just  one  year  ago  today  since  we  arrived  in  Paris.  Of  the 
original  group  who  came,  only  Dr.  Lucas,  Miss  Gilder,  Dr. 
Baldwin,  and  I  are  left.  Dr.  Baldwin  leaves  for  home  in  a  day 
or  two. 

Last  night  I  dined  with  Mr.  Macdonough;  I  do  not  know 


122     INTIMATE  LETTERS  FROM  FRANCE 

if  you  remember  him — he  is  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Eyre's.  His 
son  had  been  here  only  about  a  week  or  two  when  he  was 
killed  in  his  first  engagement.  Helen  Byrne  knew  him  well, 
he  was  a  fine  fellow. 

I  fear  the  loss  of  life  among  our  men  has  been  very  high, 
but  let  us  pray  that  their  over-zealousness  may  have  given  such 
an  impetus  to  the  retreat  that  the  Huns  won't  stop  until  they 
have  crossed  the  Rhine.  I  cannot  help  hugging  to  my  heart 
the  hope  that  the  fruit  of  the  sacrifice  our  boys  have  made  of 
their  young  lives  will  be  victory  in  the  near  future,  not  another 
year  of  war.  Let  us  pray. 


14  DAY  USE 

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